


Loyalty of Hounds

by AzraelGFG



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Other POVs, POV Sandor, POV Sansa, Post Season 6, Ramsay is his own warning, Slow Burn, lost characters reappearing, mention of rape, sansan, season 5, season 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-16 21:06:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 100
Words: 74,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzraelGFG/pseuds/AzraelGFG
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After having avenged Septon Ray and his people Sandor Clegane travels with the Brotherhood without Banners. When they make a halt in an Inn Sandor hears that Littlefinger shortly stayed with an unknown woman. Hearing that Brienne of Tarth got into a fight with them, Sandor starts to ask himself if that unknown woman could be Sansa and if that is his second chance to keep her safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Sandor

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to @sansaspride for encouraging me and being my beta.

Several weeks had gone by since Sandor Clegane had lost his friends at the commune Septon Ray had founded to build a small sept for the poor and hungry.  
He had killed the renegade members of the Brotherhood without Banners, even when Beric Dondarion and that Red Priest had not permitted him the satisfaction of gutting them. Since that day, he had traveled with the men, and supported them in helping villages they passed in their preparations for the upcoming winter.  
  
“Winter is coming,” the commonfolk kept murmuring. Sandor felt a smile on his face whenever he heard that sentence uttered. It always brought back memories. Both good and bad. He still remembered how he begged the little wolf bitch to grant him mercy, and how she stole his silver and left him to die. He thought about how close he had bee to the kiss of the Stranger, until septon Ray found him and treated his wounds.  
Sandor didn’t remember much from his fever dreams. In the rush of images, there was only one that stood out. A nest of red hair. A soft voice. The little bird. He still felt ashamed every time he thought about Kings Landing. Of how he stood next to the throne and did nothing while they beat her and left her at the mercy of the Lannisters. He should have killed that little shit of king a long time ago. The last thing Sandor had heard about Sansa, was when he was still with her damned sister. She had married the Lannister imp and disappeared during the kings wedding feast. Sandor often asked himself what had become of her. If she had truly broken from her cage, or had fallen into another one.  
  
  
Today, after a long day of work in a village, Beric decided they could use some real food and a soft bed. The inn of the village sounded most appealing. Sandor and his companions fed and watered their horses in front of the inn. Upon entering, they were greeted by a short woman. Her apron was covered in food stains, but she had a warm smile and an honest face.  
“Food and beds for the night, I guess,” she said happily.  
  
“Yes, and beer for my friends,” said Beric with a smile, and handed the woman some gold dragons.  
  
“Right away, m´lord.”  
  
They took their seats in a corner of the room and soon enough the innkeeper came with plates of roasted chicken and a young girl poured them beer. While Sandor ate his food in silence, the innkeeper came over and started to talk to Beric.  
“Too bad you didn’t show up a few days earlier, I could have used you as show of force,” she said.  
  
“What?” asked Thoros in confusion, taking a long gulp of his beer.  
  
“Few days ago a lord came into my inn accompanied by a young woman and a dozen knights. They wore the sigil of house Arryn.”  
  
“A rich lord, eh? Did he not pay? Or did his men try to take some liberties with your maids?”  
  
“No, m´lord. He was kind and paid more than enough for himself and his men,” she said slowly. “But sometime later, a strange woman in armor with a boy entered. She waited a while, then went up to the lord and exchanged a few words. It didn’t end well. She stormed off, and he sent his men after her. She hacked the posts holding the horse, and caused all sorts of chaos. The lord had to leave immediately. Lost me a good ton of coin since he didn’t stay the night.”  
  
Sandor wasn’t interested in the games of the bullies that called themselves knights, but he was interested in that strange woman that caused that chaos. “What did she look like? The woman who caused all the chaos?” Sandor asked in his rough voice.  
  
“She was as tall as you ser, short blond hair. Not someone you would call a beauty. Her armor was plain, but she wore an extravagant sword. The tilt was made of gold and looked like a lion,” said the woman.  
  
Sandor laughed and his companions stared at him curiously.  
  
“Did I say something funny ser?” the Innkeeper asked.  
  
“I am no ser, but I know that wench you describe,” said Sandor, a look of annoyance on his face.  
  
“Who is she?” Beric asked.  
  
“Brienne of bloody Tarth. She was the one that nearly killed me, when I refused to give up that little wolf bitch.”  
  
“Why should Brienne the Beauty want trouble with that lord?” Beric asked the innkeeper.  
  
“She wasn’t interested in that lord, ser. She talked to the woman that accompanied him. But this lord, Be…Bae…Baelish was his name I think? Anyways, he didn’t look too happy,” she mumbled, cleaning their table with her rag.  
  
“What in the seven hells is Littlefucker doing here?” Sandor nearly barked at the innkeeper.  
  
“I don’t know ser, but if yer interested, it looked like they were heading North.”  
  
The rest of the meal passed in silence.  
  
Later that evening, when Sandor lay in his bed, his thoughts circled about the things he had heard. Brienne of Tarth. Littlefinger and an unknown woman. He couldn’t put together the pieces in his mind. Sandor huffed, taking a deep gulp of the wineskin he had been gifted in the last village.  
He closed his eyes, and drifted off to sleep. Again, he dreamed of the night the Blackwater had burned. How he left her with only his bloodied cloak. How he failed her. The dream changed. Suddenly, he was on top of a hill in the Vale, fighting with Brienne. Sandor awoke with a gasp. He glanced around the dark room. It was a few hours past the hour of the wolf.  
Sandor walked over to the window and opened the shutters, looking out into the night. He couldn’t stop asking himself one thing. How serious would someone have to be to continue an oath to protect the daughters of a dead woman? Sandor chuckled. “Serious enough to fight the bloody Hound for it,” he said aloud.  
  
Suddenly, it all came together. The unknown woman with Baelish. Both traveling North. And Brienne being ready to fight knights for her. Could it be?  
Sansa Stark. The woman had to be Sansa. Sandor remembered how Baelish had looked at Sansa back in Kings Landing, but why would she travel north with him? The North was full of enemies. Winterfell was a ruin and the Boltons ruled the land. The mere thought of Sansa traveling north made him feel uneasy.  
  
Sandor couldn’t understand his feeling of unease. But, Sansa was in danger. She had been a naïve young girl the last time he saw her, believing in true knights and fair maidens. She had flown away from one gilded cage, to be trapped in another.  
  
“Little bird,” he whispered into the cold night, his voice choked with emotion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	2. Sandor

Sandor threw open the doors to Beric’s room. Luckily, it was unlocked. Though why in Seven Hells would a man would leave his room unlocked in an inn, he did not know. Either way, he would have torn it down. The door slammed against the wood, and Beric jolted up out of bed.  
  
“I need to talk to you,” said Sandor, his voice dead serious.  
  
Beric blinked. “What is it, Clegane? It’s the hour of the wolf,” he said quietly, his eyes assessing the former knight.  
  
Sandor looked around the room. It was bare, save for a bed, a washbin and a single wooden chair. Simple. Sandor contemplated taking Beric down to the main hall or his own room to talk. His time spent with the Lannisters and King’s Landing had taught him to be wary of listening ears. But, the inn was silent.  
Sandor closed the door behind him, locking it. He slowly walked towards Beric, who now sat on the edge of the bed, his feet planted firmly on the ground. “You once told me your Lord of Light has plans for me. That he isn’t finished with me just yet,” he said quietly.  
  
Beric nodded, a look of understanding on his face. “Aye, I remember. It was after your trial. You killed me if I recall correctly.”  
  
“Do you believe in second chances?”  
  
A small smile hinted at Beric’s mouth. “Where is this going Clegane?”  
  
“I believe I got my second chance,” said Sandor hoarsely. His throat felt tight an dry.  
  
“I don’t believe in the gods. Neither the old ones or the seven fucker nor your fire god, but I feel that I now have the chance to help someone who means something to me. I feel I failed her once and now I believe the gods or whoever made me cross her path again to redeem myself. I don’t know what to do…” He pressed his hands to his face, trying to ease the tension building there.  
  
“Who is it, Clegane? Does this woman know you care so much about her?”  
  
Sandor smiled sadly. “She’s the eldest daughter of the man who sent you to kill the monster that is my brother.”  
  
Beric seemed to process this slowly, for his face betrayed no emotion. “Sansa Stark,” he said at last. “How does it happen that the Hound cares for someone other than himself?”  
  
“Hell if I know,” grumbled Sandor. “Couldn’t even say why or when it happened. I always told her she was stupid little bird, chirping courtesies everyone wanted to hear. Then, I left her in the lion’s den when I fled during the battle. I believed I had failed her. I started to accept I had failed her… Until yesterday, when the innkeepter brought up Littlefinger. I believe he has her.”  
  
Beric leaned forward in interest. “And now you want to follow her to keep her safe?”  
  
Sandor shrugged. “Hells, if only I knew. I’m not even sure it was her. But, I believe it because who else would that bloody Tarth woman cause such an uproar for but a Stark girl? She is as stubborn as she is ugly when it comes to the oath she gave to their mother. I feel that Sansa needs protection, but I fear that if I find her she will hate and reject me for leaving her in Kings Landing.”  
  
It pained him to think of Sansa hating him so. She had been one of the only people who had seen the real him. Who understood him for what he was. He had spoken to her of his fear of fire, and it seemed to open up a world of understanding within her. He always thought she was afraid of him, but maybe there was something more beneath those bright blue eyes.  
Sandor was so lost in his thoughts, that he forgot Beric was in the room with him.  
  
“Clegane listen to me, and listen carefully,” said the other man. “You are not a bad person. You have done horrible things in the past. We all did. But, you always had your code of honor. You may have failed her in the past. I don’t know what you have done for her in the past or what you didn’t, but I seems to me that your heart wants to follow her, while your head fears what your heart wants. I won’t tell you to follow her nor will I tell you shouldn’t. That decision is yours alone.”  
  
Sandor walked to the open window, staring at the night sky. “If someone would have told me a year ago that I would share my secrets with another man, I would have strangled him with his own bowels,” he said.  
  
Both men laughed.  
  
“Clegane, you are not the same man I fought in the cave,” said Beric thoughtfully. “Should you decide to go, I will give you a sword, a bag of gold dragons and a horse. We’re talking about the daughter of a man I deeply respected. But, should you decide to stay, you will have a place in our group.”  
  
Sandor nodded. “I will go. She is the only person that ever meant something to me and I will be damned if I turn away, when she might need my help.”  
  
Beric stood up. “I will get what I promised you. I’ll meet you in the stable.”  
  
Sandor back to his room, gathering his few belongings. He went outside into the darkness and saddled the horse that seemed to be the strongest. He missed Stranger. He hasn’t seen his warhorse since that Tarth wench pushed him down the hill during their fight.  
  
The stable gate opened and Dondarion went inside, and handed him sword and purse. Sandor led the horse outside and mounted it. On the horizon, the first small signs of the sunrise could be seen and some birds were beginning to awaken, their chirping starting to welcome a new day.  
  
“May the Lord watch over you, Clegane, said Beric. “ For the night is dark and full of terrors.”  
  
Sandor laughed. “Bugger your god Dondarion, it’s not him that gives me energy.”  
  
Sandor kicked his horse into a gallop, and rode off into the morning.


	3. Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one. Next will be longer again :)

Sandor rode on the Kings Road for nearly an hour, when he reached a small river. He climbed down his horse and led him at his reins to water it.  
  
The sun had risen and the air became humid. Sandor allowed himself to close his eyes for a moment and enjoy the warmth. It felt good to be on the road again. It felt good to have a purpose.  
Sandor’s thoughts were interrupted when he heard the sound of another horse.  
  
He pulled his sword and prepared for the worst. Relief passed over him when another horse trotted over to him out of the forest. A dead body was dragged by the horse. One of the man’s feet had caught up in a stirrup. Sandor freed the horse and it immediately ran off towards the hills.  
  
Sandor examined the body. He wore the armor and the colors of the Arryns. His face wasn’t identifiable anymore due to the dragging along the forest ground. Sandor decided to follow the path into the woods where the horse had come from.  
After a few minutes he found the body of another knight. He wore the same colors as the previous one, his gorget had been penetrated by a sword.  
Sandor touched the edges. They were smooth. Only one thing in the world could penetrate a steel armor that way was Valyrian steel.  
  
Sandor looked at the scars that covered his fingers. He knew what valyrian steel felt like first hand.  
  
“That must have been the knights Littlefucker sent after that Tarth wench,” Sandor thought to himself.  
  
Sandor checked the dead for something useful. Except for a dagger and some silver stags, he proved to be useless.  
Sandor mounted his horse and led him back onto the kings road to continue his journey north.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sansa PoV next :D


	4. Sansa

The last few weeks had been a dull affair. They rode for hours on end, only stopping to spend the nights at inns. Petyr still hadn’t told her where they were going. Where he would bring her to keep her safe.  
“A land so far from here, even Cersei Lannister can’t get her hands on you,” he had told her when they left Runestone and lord Royce behind.  
  
Today was a rainy day and the air was getting colder.  
“Winter is coming,” Sansa told herself silently, drawing strength from her family words. Petyr had called for a stop and helped her to climb down her mare. He led her to a small hilltop. In front of her to the horizon she could see swampland and a half rotten castle was in the center of it.  
Sansa had once been here before. A sense of dread filled her at the realization of where they were. She should have guessed sooner.  
  
“That's Moat Cailin.”  
  
Petyr didn’t looked perturbed. “Yes. A bit shabby, isn't it? You've been here before?”  
  
Sansa remembered the time back then. She had been a naïve girl full of dreams and songs of true knights. _There are no true knights_ , a rough voice in her mind reminded her.  
Sansa spoke slowly. “On our way down to King's Landing, with my father and Arya and… where are you taking me?” 

Petyr only said one word. “Home.”  
  
I no longer have a home, she thought. But instead, she said, “The Boltons have Winterfell.”

Petyr nodded, betraying no hint of emotion. His mask was firmly in place. Panic filled her chest. “The marriage proposal, it wasn't for you?”

Petyr simply shook his head. “No.”

Sansa could feel her heart rate increasing, a bubble of anxiety bursting. “Roose Bolton murdered my brother. He betrayed my family!” she exclaimed.

“He did,” said Petyr simply.

“He serves the Lannisters,” she tried again.

“For now,” said Petyr with a small shrug.

“I won't go,” she said stubbornly, shaking her head. How could he do this to her? She trusted him. She thought he cared for her.

“Winterfell is your home.”

“Not anymore!” 

Petyr was looking directly at her, staring into the depths of her soul. “Always. You're a Stark. Dyeing your hair doesn't change that. You're Sansa Stark. The eldest surviving child of Ned and Catelyn Stark. Your place is in the North.”

“I can't marry him! You can't make me! He's a traitor! A murderer!” she yelled desperately, her throat clenching. She felt hot tears in her eyes.

“You're not marrying Roose Bolton. No, you'll be marrying his son and heir, Ramsay. One day he'll be Warden of the North and you will…”  
Sansa didn’t want to hear another word. “No!”

“Sansa…” Petyr reasoned.

“No, you can't make me! I will starve myself! I will die before I have to go there!” she cried. Her stomach had turned into a knot.  
Petyr grabbed her at her shoulders, so he stood right in front of her.  
“I won't force you to do anything. Don't you know by now how much I care for you? Say the word and we turn the horses round, but listen to me. Listen.” He silently spoke into her ear, while stroking her cheek with his thumb.  
  
She wanted to wrench herself away from his grasp. To run back to the Vale. But, instead her feet remained firmly planted on the ground listening to his soothing, smooth voice.  
  
“You've been running all your life. Terrible things happened to your family and you weep. You sit alone in a darkened room, mourning their fates. You've been a bystander to tragedy from the day they executed your father. Stop being a bystander, do you hear me? Stop running. There's no justice in the world. Not unless we make it. You loved your family. Avenge them.”  
  
He kissed her forehead and walked back to their horses and didn’t turn around even when Sansa looked after him.  
She was desperate. Would she never be safe? The south wanted her dead for her alleged participation in Joffrey’s murder. Cersei wouldn’t rest until her head was on a pike. Her only chance was in the North. She feared the Boltons and she hated them for what they had done.  
  
Petyr had once told her that there are only two kinds of people in the world: players and pieces. If she ever wanted to become a player, she now had to make the first move. She had never been so afraid of a decision.  
Sansa straightened her shoulders, took a deep breath and walked back to her mare. Although she wasn’t really sure how, she had to avenge her family. And if infiltrating the Bolton lines and destroying them from within was what Petyr had in mind, she would have to play along.


	5. Sansa

It took another week until they finally saw Winterfell on the horizon. It felt good to be back in the North.  
  
When Sansa was a little girl she had always envied her mother for growing up in the Riverlands with all the colorful flowers and being surrounded by knights in painted armors.  
Now, she was happy to see the marshlands and the deep dark forest that covered her homeland.  
  
Soon, she would be back in the castle that belonged to her family for thousands of years. From the distance, Sansa could see that the great keep was still intact and Winterfell walls stood as strong as they did since the long night. She had heard it was no more. Burnt to the ground, but it was only a lie. Winterfell had endured, just as she would.  
  
They rode through the gates, and Sansa glanced around in the courtyard. Most of the wood construction seemed to have be built recently. The wood was still bright and fresh. This is what was destroyed, she thought.  
  
A stable boy came and took her reins. Sansa had nearly expected to see Hodor, but Hodor was gone. As were old Nan, Ser Rodrik, Jory, Mikken and everybody else she had ever known within these walls. She felt alone. The flayed man banner was flying over the castle, and Sansa felt a stab of pain in her chest. The wolves will come again, she thought.  
  
She dismounted, and took off her gloves, wringing her hands together. It was a habit she had acquired when she felt nervous. She hoped no one noticed, as she kept her face composed.  
She felt Petyr’s hand on her back leading her gently to the group of people that awaited her.  
  
A man stepped forward. He seemed to be about mid fifty and had pale cold eyes that did not smile even as he did. The flayed man decorated his chest. Roose Bolton. The man that drove his dagger into her brother’s heart.  
  
“Lady Sansa, welcome,” he said in a low voice that gave no emotion away.  
  
Sansa forced herself to smile and curtsied. She was a good girl and always remembered her courtesies. “Lord Bolton.”  
  
The man smiled. “May I introduce my son, Ramsay Bolton.”  
  
He gestured and a man stepped besides him smiling. He was shorter than her and smiled in an eerie manner that did not seem natural, while removing his gloves. “It’s an honor to meet you, my lady.”  
  
He kissed her hand and eyed her smiling.  
  
I am a Stark. I can be brave.


	6. Brienne

Podrick had just returned with wood for the fire and some hares he had caught for dinner over his shoulder. Brienne and Podrick had been waiting for a week now.  
  
Since the incident at the inn, Brienne and Podrick had always been a few hours behind Sansa and Lord Baelish.  
They had nearly caught up with them when they had reached Moat Cailin. They had even seen Sansa and her companions ride on the dam North. But, they had lost a week when they had to ride around the swamp to pass the Neck, trying to avoid being detected again.  
  
When they arrived in the village outside of Winterfell, Sansa had already arrived. Brienne could not simply ride into the castle. Lord Bolton knew her from her time in Harrenhal. It would be a certain death. She would have to use stealth, and find the right moment to rescue Lady Sansa.  
  
Brienne had convinced a man in the inn to give Lady Sansa a message. Apparently, an elderly woman had direct access to her.  
The old man told Brienne a day later that the elderly woman told Sansa to light up a candle in the broken tower, should she need help or rescue.  
  
She and Podrick had built a simple hutch on the edge of the wood. Now they were waiting. Brienne had grown fond of Podrick over the time of their travel. He was a good lad. He had been shy around her in the beginning, but now she thinks they even developed some kind of friendship.  
  
They had a daily routine. Brienne would teach him sword fight in the morning and the evening. While Brienne waited for a signal, Podrick would check the snares or would chop wood for the fire. During the night, they took shifts in watching for the candle.  
  
Brienne had to think about Jaime. She inspected the sword Jaime had gifted her. Oathkeeper. She only hoped she would be worthy of such a sword.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am pissed as fuck since the last episode. The show took away Sansas birthright and made her smile about it. After all the shit the has been through,she gets no credit at all,by the north. D&D simply abused her storyline again to drive the agenda of another character forward. In season 5 it was theon and now its jon.


	7. Sandor

Sandor rode hard day and night, only stopping to take short breaks to water and feed his horse. He slept beneath the stars, never staying in inns or taverns.  
  
He had bought some supplies in a small village he had passed. He had enough money to buy everything he needed. Beric had given him even more gold than he had expected. He had bought dried meats and some skins of wine.There was even enough for a warm cloak. After all, winter was coming. He felt warmth float in his chest when he thought of these words. It reminded him of the Little Bird.  
  
He had finally reached the edge of the North. Moat Cailin was right in front of him. He had been here before twice.  
Once during his travel North with late King Robert, when Sandor was the shield of that little blond prick and once again on the journey back South. Now he saw the flayed men on top of the tower. He swore inwardly. He would have to take a way around the swamp. He couldn’t fight the garrison that held the castle ruin.  
  
He petted his horse. “Well boy, I think we have to find another way to get North.”  
  
Sandor led his horse towards the path that led to the western edge of the swamp and rode off into the fading light.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter Sansa. I promise it will be long again :)


	8. Sansa

It was the night of her wedding. Over the past few days, Sansa had discovered Ramsay was not what he appeared to be, after Lord Baelish left. His true colours were appearing. When she had dinner with Lord Bolton and his Frey wife, Ramsay had forced Theon, or what was left of him to apologize for murdering her little brothers. It had made her walls crack for a moment and a single tear had forced its way down her cheek.  
  
Ramsay had taken delight in the show and even arranged that Theon would give her away during the wedding. After that, Lord Bolton had announced that his wife was expecting a child and it was likely a boy. Sansa recognized how Ramsay had tensed at this announcement. After all, he was a bastard and a true born son would negate his claim. Sansa couldn’t help but smile.  
  
Sansa was nervous. Baelish had told her in the crypts before he rode off to Kings Landing, that she would make him hers and that he had already fallen for her. Sansa had believed him, but now she wasn’t so sure anymore if she could go through with it. The things Ramsay’s bedwarmer had told her while she bathed frightened her.  
  
Sansa had been able to stand her ground against her, but her hands were now trembling. The only thing that gave her hope was the her faith in the elderly servant who told her the North hadn’t forgotten the Starks. The smallfolk still loved her family and the high Northern lords that had been invited to the wedding would hopefully help her too. And then there was that unknown person outside the castle that would help her if she gave the signal with the candle.  
Snow had begun to fall outside her window. Sansa was pacing back and forth in her room, while she waited for Theon to accompany her to the godswood.  
  
She smoothed her skirts. Her dress was made out of soft white lamb wool and the front was held together by the trout pins her mother used to wear. The sleeves were made out of satin. Her shoulders were covered with a soft white fur of a wolf. She looked every bit the Stark she was.  
  
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
Theon opened the door and entered the room. He had been washed and given clean clothes. He held a lantern in his left hand.  
  
“I have come to escort you to the Godswood, my lady. If you please, my lady, will you take my arm?” Theon said without looking into her face.  
  
“No.”  
  
“But…but Lord Ramsay… he said I'm to take your arm.”  
  
“I’m not touching you,” she said with contempt.  
  
He was the reason her family had lost the North. He burned Bran and Rickon. And because of his stupidity, the Boltons now held Winterfell. It was too much. She would have to marry the son of the man who put a dagger through Robb’s heart. To her dismay, she noticed Theon was wearing Robb’s old clothes.  
  
“Please. He’ll punish me,” Theon said in a desperately.  
  
“Do you think I care what he does to you?” Sansa said with her voice filled with anger.  
  
She strode past him, ignoring Theon’s arm he held out for her.  
  
When they finally reached the godswood a path was lightened by several lanterns. The snow silently fell and covered the ground. The pond in front of the weirwood had frozen. Sansa walked silently down the path next to Theon. The wedding guests were already waiting at the weirwood. Sansa felt her heart sink when the saw that not a single member of the other great northern houses was present. Only some minor lords whose fealty belonged to Bolton and other members of the household in Winterfell. Even the daughter of the kennelmaster was present. No one was smiling.  
  
Sansa stopped, and Roose Bolton stepped forward. “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?”  
  
“Sansa of the House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?”  
  
Sansa tried to keep her face empty of any emotions.  
  
“Ramsay of House Bolton. Heir to the Dreadfort and Winterfell. Who gives her?”  
  
“Theon of House Greyjoy. Who was… who was her father’s ward.”  
  
Sansa felt her throat tighten at the thought how she had once regarded Theon as brother. At how she was dressed like her brother. He sounded so sad, but she could not forget her anger.  
  
Lord Bolton now looked at her. “Lady Sansa, will you take this man?”  
  
Sansa took a moment to look at Ramsay who looked right back at her. Did she really have a choice anymore? Lord Baelish had left her. She could hardly run way. She took a deep breath before answering with a quiet voice.“I take this man.”  
  
Ramsay started to smirk in a way at her that sent a shiver down her spine.

  


The wedding feast was a small affair. She couldn’t bring herself to eat anything. Her stomach had tightened to a knot. She only managed to drink a cup of wine.  
Soon enough Ramsay proclaimed that they would retire to their chambers, but the feast should continue.  
  
“If you can call that a feast,” Sansa bitterly thought to herself.  
  
Theon opened the door to Ramsay’s chamber. Sansa entered the room and waited in its center. She looked around trying to remember what purpose the room had served when her family held the castle, while Ramsay entered after her. A fire was burning in the fireplace and candles stood all over the place, illuminating the room in a warm light. On a table were two carafes and two cups. A large bed stood on the wall covered with soft furs.  
  
“Are you pleased, my lady?”  
  
Sansa nodded.  
  
“Good. I want you to be happy. My father said you’re still a virgin.”  
  
Sansa looked to the ground. She felt uncomfortable to talk about it, especially with Theon standing only a few meters away.  
“Yes,” Sansa muttered quietly not looking at him.  
  
“Why? Why are you still a virgin? Afraid of dwarves?” Ramsay asked with amused undertone.  
  
Tyrion was a better man than you will ever be, Sansa thought to herself. “Lord Tyrion was kind. He was gentle. He never touched me.”  
  
Sansa suddenly remembered the words her father said to her once. That he would find her a husband that would be brave, gentle and strong.  
  
“You’re not lying to me?”  
  
“No, my lord.”  
  
“Lying to your husband on his wedding night that would be a very bad way to start a marriage. We are man and wife now, we should be honest with each other, don’t you think?”  
  
Sansa was holding her hands to keep them from trembling.“Yes, my lord.”  
  
Ramsay pressed a light kiss onto her mouth and Sansa felt herself tense. It reminded her of the ones Joffrey had always given her. Not like the ones Petyr had given her in the Eyrie or down in the crypts and absolutely not like the one she had received during the Blackwater.  
  
“Good. Now take off your clothes.”  
  
Sansa looked over to Theon who hadn’t made a sound since he entered the room and now moved to leave.  
  
“Oh, no no no. You stay here Reek. You watch,” said Ramsay with a sneer.  
  
He couldn’t be serious. Sansa stared at Ramsay in disbelief, but his eyes were dark with malice.  
  
“Do I need to ask a second time? I hate asking a second time.”  
  
Sansa’s mouth felt dry when she walked over to the bed. She slowly started to loosen the knots of her sleeves at her wrist. Her thoughts were far away. He is already fallen for you Petyr had said. He said he would protect me. She felt betrayed. Petyr Baelish was supposed to know everything about everyone. But, what kind of man allow another to watch her for his own amusement?  
  
“Reek? I told you to watch.”  
  
Sansa felt Ramsey step behind her, and her whole body went tense.  
  
“You’ve known Sansa since she was a girl. Now watch her become a woman.”  
  
Sansa felt hot tears well in her eyes, when she felt his breath in her neck. The sound of ripping fabric filled the room and Sansa felt the cold air on her back. Strong hands pushed her down onto the soft furs, her cheek pressed to the fur. When she heard him unbuckle his belt, she closed her eyes.


	9. Sandor

As soon as Sandor had left the swamps of the Neck behind, snow started to fall and he cursed his luck. As the days went by, he found it harder to sleep on the cold, hard ground. Often, the winds were so strong, the fire burned too low for warmth. Then, on the third night, a snowstorm began.  
  
He had luck and found a guesthouse in a village half way to castle Cerwyn. After he took care of his horse, he entered and was welcomed by an elderly man with a white beard.  
  
“My Lord, a room for the night?”  
  
“Aye, and something warm to eat. Wine if you have,” he said.  
His fingers felt frozen. It was not this cold the last time he had been North.  
  
“We have roasted chicken. Unfortunately no wine, but we have an ale we brew ourselves.”  
  
“Good enough,” Sandor muttered.  
  
The guestroom was well-populated. Sandor took his seat in the far corner of the room, so he could listen to the chatter of the people. Maybe he would get some useful information.  
The serving girl brought him a plate with a whole chicken and fresh bread that still steamed from the oven. It felt good to finally have something warm in his belly, after days of berries and rabbit. He leaned back into the shadow of the corner, drank his ale and listened to the other guests.  
  
Most of the things he heard weren’t useful, but a few things were. Apparently Lord Cerwyn had been flayed alive alongside with his wife and brother, when he refused to pay taxes to the bastard of Lord Bolton.  
Sandor nearly wanted to retreat to his room, when he heard a woman chatter with the inn keeper’s wife.  
  
“Really? Lord Eddard’s daughter?”  
  
“Yes. My husband’s sister is a kitchenmaid in Winterfell. She married Bolton’s bastard a few days ago. That poor girl. My sister in law writes that her screams can be heard all over Winterfell during the nights.”  
  
Sandor nearly choked on his ale. He had to cough loudly and the women turned towards him.  
  
“Are you alright ser?”  
  
Sandor stood up and walked over to them.  
  
“I have to go.”  
  
“But it is night. We have already prepared a room for you.”  
  
Sandor handed the innkeepers wife two golddragons, more than enough to stay for a whole week.  
  
“My lord, that’s too much,” she said with wide-eyes.  
  
“No, take it. Winter is coming and you will need it,” he said, walking out into the night.  
  
The snowstorm had mercifully diminished to a lighter snow fall. Sandor prepared his horse, but had trouble fastening the saddle. His hands were shaking with anger. Sansa was in the hands of the people that murdered her family. He couldn’t stay here and eat warm food and sleep in a warm bed, while Sansa was in Bolton’s hands. His memory flashed to the day he had saved her from the scum in King’s Landing. She had escaped from a gilded cage only to fall into another one.  
  
He climbed his horse and galloped into the night. “Hold on, Little Bird. I’m coming.”


	10. Sansa

Nearly a week had passed since she had married again. Ramsay had shown his true nature.  
Since her wedding night, Sansa was locked in her chamber, a prisoner in her once happy home. She only ever received two visitors. One was Reek, that disgusting creature she former knew as Theon Greyjoy, who brought her food every few hours. The other was her lord husband to demand his husbandly rights for hours night after night.  
  
Sansa lay in her bed under her furs and tried to process what happened yesterday.  
When Theon had brought her breakfast in the morning, she had desperately pleaded him to light the candle, so that mysterious ally would come to her rescue.  
  
Her hopes were scattered a few hours later when soldiers came to bring her onto the parapets of the castle, where Ramsay was waiting for her. They walked around, while Ramsay told her how lucky they were that Stannis Baratheon was now trapped into the snowstorm that was raging over the castle and land for days now.  
  
She had been able to grab a tool on one of the barrels that might be useful in the future.  
  
When Sansa told him that he was a bastard she could see how much he wanted to slap her. But he didn’t. He was like Joffrey. He wanted her face pretty. The face of Ned Stark’s daughter. Instead he lectured her about how high bastards can rise in this world and told her of her half-brother Jon, who apparently was Lord Commander now.  
  
Sansa was taken aback by that piece of information and Ramsay sensed that this lighted a new spark of hope in her chest.  
  
That spark was quickly extinguished when he showed her the flayed body of the kind elderly woman. Sansa felt her heart sink. Theon betrayed her. Hot tears ran down her face. She couldn’t keep up her walls of steel. She barely heard Ramsay say something about holding on to her candles, because the nights were getting longer.  
  
When she was back in her chamber, she felt anger and hate well in her heart.  
When Theon came she yelled at him and he told her how he once had tried to flee. When he then mentioned how he killed those boys, something in Sansa snapped.  
  
How dare he speak of her baby brothers as if they were no one? He had seen them grow, and saw him as their brothers.   
Over all the yelling the truth escaped his lips that he hadn’t murdered Bran and Rickon, but some farm boys. Sansa was shocked. She thought they were dead. That Arya was dead. That she was the last Stark. A flicker of hope sparked in her chest. She would find them. She had to escape.  
  
Now, she grabbed the tool hidden beneath her mattress.  
Her body still ached from the punishment Ramsay had given her for trying to escape the day before.   
She turned the tool around and around in her hand, feeling the cool press of metal against her skin. She was a Stark.  
  
She would escape or die trying.


	11. Brienne

Podrick ran back to her as if the Stranger himself were at his heels.  
  
“My lady, my lady.”  
  
Brienne kept looking at the destroyed tower in Winterfell.  
  
“What is it, Pod?”  
  
“Stannis. Stannis Baratheon is coming. With his whole army,” he breathlessly stuttered.  
  
Brienne turned to him. “How do you know it is Stannis?”  
  
“He is carrying his flaming heart banners. The same he had on the Blackwater. I will never forget them.”  
  
Brienne turned back to Winterfell, and focused on the tower window. She had been waiting for weeks with no response. Please Sansa give me the sign, Brienne thought desperately.  
  
The window stayed dark.  
  
She would fulfill her duty to her king, Renly. Then she would come back and watch over Lady Sansa. Brienne grabbed Oathkeeper.  
  
“Show me the way, Pod.”  
  
Podrick grabbed his axe and led her away.  
  
_I have not forgotten my oath, Renly. Soon you will be avenged_ , Brienne thought while stomping away.  
She did not look back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tomorrows chapter will be longer again :)


	12. Sansa

Ramsay had left her bed a few hours ago to take care of the last preparations for the battle.  
A shiver ran down her spine, when he told her he would return to her bed after he had won.  
  
As soon as Sansa heard the door lock, she jumped out of her bed. She washed the traces of Ramsay with cold water from her basin.  
Today was her best chance to escape. The castle was in turmoil, because of the upcoming battle. In that chaos, Sansa might have the chance to light the candle and escape, or Stannis would win and Petyr would have been right after all.  
  
She chose her warmest dress and decided to wear two pairs of wool stockings. Sansa had no real boots for the weather, but at least she had a pair of warm leather gloves.  
She grabbed the tool she had hidden under her mattress and started to work on the door lock.  
  
Every time she heard steps on the other side of the door Sansa froze her movements, but finally the door opened. Sansa grabbed her grey cloak and pulled up the hood.   
Sansa used hallways that weren’t used so often and tried to avoid the main courtyard on her way to broken tower.  
  
As she entered the courtyard, she tried to move in a normal manner so as not to alert them. The soldiers ran about the courtyard, carrying swords, arrows, and shields, not paying attention to her at all.  
  
Finally, she reached the tower. Sansa climbed up the stairway to the top. The room was dirty and parts of the roof had collapsed. She lit the candle in the only window. She could see an army that came out of the forest.  
So few, Sansa thought. She imagined Stannis would have come with a massive force, that would easily crush the Boltons. But, it would not be. The Bolton cavalry attacked and encircled Stannis´ men.  
  
Although the battlefield was hundred meters away, Sansa could still hear the sound of dying men. Sansa was terrified. Stannis has lost. Petyr’s plan had failed. She must return to her room as fast as possible before Ramsay returned. She walked as fast as she could. When she turned a corner, she was facing the tip of a pointed arrow.  
  
“My lady. I have come to escort you back to your chamber,” said Myranda, her voice full of amusement.  
  
“Go with her. Please,” Theon begged.  
  
That was her end. She had been caught. Every chance of returning to her rooms undetected had turned to dust.  
  
“I know what Ramsay is. I know what he will do to me,” said Sansa, her voice suddenly cutting like steel. “If I am going to die, let it happen while there is still some of me left.”  
  
Myranda lowered her bow. She had a strange smile.  
“Die? Who said anything about dying? You can’t die yet. Your father was Warden of the North, and Ramsay needs you. Though I suppose he doesn’t need all of you. Just the parts he’ll use to make his heir. Until you’ve given him a boy or two and he’s finished using them. He’s got incredible plans for those parts. So. Shall we wait for him to come back, or shall we begin now?”  
  
I will not beg for mercy. I am a Stark, Sansa thought and straightened her back.  
  
“You’re leaving it to me? Good. Let’s begin,” said Myranda cruelly, drawing her bow.  
  
Sansa closed her eyes. In a moment, she would be reunited with her mother, father and Robb. Maybe Arya and Lady would be there too.  
  
Then it all happened in a moment. Sansa heard the arrow whoosh by her head and hit the wall behind her. She opened her eyes and saw Theon push Myranda over the railing.  
  
Sansa ran over to Theon and both stared down onto the dead body. A puddle of blood began to run out of her crushed head.  
  
“Open the gates!”  
  
“He is coming back,” Theon said to her.  
  
Sansa’s eyes widened in panic. Theon grabbed her hand and led her to the edge of the wall and helped her to climb to the top.  
  
Theon offered his hand and Sansa took it gratefully and they looked down. She thought her heart would break out of her chest. It was so high and she silently prayed the pile of snow was deep enough.  
  
Theon and Sansa jumped and the seconds in the air felt like an eternity until a cloud of swirled snow surrounded them.  
  
Theon helped her onto her feet. “Are you hurt, my lady?”  
  
Sansa shook her head.  
Theon grabbed her hand and both ran off towards the tree line of the Wolfswood.


	13. Brienne

Brienne had made it. She had found Stannis on the battlefield and he had admitted that he had murdered his brother with blood magic. She had avenged her king, as every kingsguard should do.  
  
Stannis Baratheon’s army had been massacred. Brienne had watched from safe distance and saw how his army was crushed under the hooves of the Boltons.  
Brienne had waited until most of the troops had returned to Winterfell.  
Brienne didn’t really know what she had expected to find. Maybe she just wanted to see Stannis´ dead body. To be at least sure that the murder of Renly was dead.  
  
Brienne was grateful to the gods that they granted her the favor to find Stannis alive. The Stannis Brienne had created in her mind was a monster.  
But, the man she found was broken. Brienne had judged him and she had expected for him to deny it or beg for mercy with his last words.  
He simply admitted to his crimes and told her to do her duty. Brienne took his head with one stroke.  
  
Now, she and Podrick were walking back to their camp. Podrick sat down to reignite the fire and prepare the hares he had caught before he had spotted Stannis.  
  
Brienne just wanted to sit down. She saw light flicker in the broken tower.  
  
“Podrick look!” Brienne shrieked.  
  
The light flickered one last time before the window went dark again.  
  
“The candle must be burned down.”  
  
“That means we missed the signal, Pod. Lady Sansa called for help and we missed it!”  
  
“My lady, look!”  
  
Podrick pointed with his finger to the gate. A group of riders accompanied by hounds rode off towards the north.  
  
“It seems they are looking for someone, my lady.”  
  
“You think they’re looking for Lady Sansa?”  
  
“Maybe she escaped during the chaos of the battle.”  
  
Brienne thought about it. Maybe Sansa was still within Winterfell, but if that is true Brienne would still not be able to simply walk into the castle and demand Lord Bolton to hand her over. This might be the only chance to save her.  
  
“Pod, ready the horses. We can’t afford to lose time. The hunters already have a lead.”  
  
They broke camp and followed the hunters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I missed that scene in the series. I totally hoped to see a scene where Brienne realizes she fucked up. But D&D havent grant me that favor lol.


	14. Sandor

Sandor could hear the battle before he saw it. Thousands of crows could be heard flying in the sky, celebrating the feast on the ground beneath.  
  
He led his horse onto the top of a hill and took in the scenery. Winterfell stood as firm as ever, but the field that stretched to the forest in the north was covered with bodies.  
Sandor rode slowly over the battlefield. Sandor knew the banner that stood here and there into the ground. The flaming heart.  
  
“So Stannis has finally found his end,” he muttered to himself. The battle had happened maybe a few hours ago. The feast for the crows had just begun.  
  
Sandor looked over to Winterfell. He somehow had to get information about what happened in the castle. Sandor was still a good fighter, though he had a lame leg caused by his healed injury, but he couldn’t hack through the whole Bolton army, to check where the little bird was.  
  
A crowd of crows flew into the sky from the edge of the forest. Sandor rode over and saw two soldiers checking the bodies.  
The flayed man they wore left no doubt where their loyalty belonged.  
  
“He must be here somewhere,” Sandor heard one of them say.  
  
“Just keep looking. Lord Bolton promised a handsome reward.”  
  
Sandor climbed down his horse. The soldiers recognized his presence and pulled their swords.  
  
“Stop! What are you doing here?!” the first one, a green boy asked him.  
  
“I could ask you the same. What happened here?” Sandor simply said.  
  
“Lord Ramsay crushed the army of the usurper Stannis Baratheon this morning. We are looking for the body of the usurper. Lord Bolton promised hundred gold dragons for his head.”  
  
“And you two thought you will find him?”  
  
“It’s better than freezing our dicks off, running around cross country to track down that Stark bitch” the other soldier said while still checking bodies.  
  
“Is the Stark girl not in Winterfell?” Sandor asked.  
  
“Nope. Lady Bolton fled during the battle with Lord Ramsay’s pet.”  
  
The soldier turned to Sandor, a leer on his face.   
  
“But she won’t run far. Lord Ramsay sent his best hunters after her. Soon, she will be dragged back to the castle.”  
  
Sandor felt himself tense at the mere thought of Sansa being hunted through the forest.  
  
“Which direction?” Sandor growled.  
  
“Why do you care?”  
  
“WHERE!” Sandor yelled.  
  
“North, always north, but why should you car…”  
  
Before he could finish the sentence Sandor drove his sword into his stomach with a snarl.  
The eyes of the other soldier widened in fear and he was not able to raise his sword fast enough and Sandor nearly split him in half.  
  
Sandor walked back to his horse and rode north as fast as he could.  
  
Sansa was on the run and he had to find her.


	15. Sansa

Sansa was so tired. She simply wanted to lie down and sleep.  
She and Theon had been running for hours. The howling of Ramsay’s hounds had given them the drive to continue.  
They had to push forward. They had to gain freedom.  
  
Sansa wanted to give up when they reached the shore of a wild river, but Theon had convinced her to continue. The frosty water had deprived her of all warmth and energy she had left.  
  
They had paused at a fallen tree. Sansa couldn’t feel her feet and legs and she was shaking wildly.  
Theon had hugged her and she had allowed herself a short moment of rest. She hadn’t been hugged in so long.  
  
The short moment of peace was destroyed by the sound of hounds closing in.  
  
Theon had tried to lure them away, but they had seen through his trick.  
  
Now, the soldiers tried to pull her out of her hiding spot at the tree. The hounds were barking and snapping at her, while she desperately hit the soldier that grabbed her arm.  
Another pair of hooves could be heard coming closer.  
  
“It´s a bloody woman” one of the riders said.  
  
And then chaos broke loose. Sansa couldn’t find the heart to look who would win that fight. She tried to make herself a small as possible and waited.  
  
When the sound of clashing steel died. She slowly crept out and only saw a huge armored person. For a moment she thought it was the Hound, but then she saw that it was Brienne of Tarth.  
She remembered her from the incident with Petyr and from Joffrey’s wedding. Brienne knelt before her.  
  
“Lady Sansa, I offer my services once again. I will shield your back and keep your council and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the old gods and the new.”  
  
When Sansa was a little girl, she had always dreamed of a knight to be her shield.  
She had learned the words when she was four, but life was no song and she had given up the thought of someone swearing an oath to her.  
  
Sansa took a deep breath. “And I vow...that you shall always have a place by my hearth and…” She felt so tired. She was safe, and the feeling created a warmth in her chest. She couldn’t remember the words.  
  
“Meat and mead at my table,” Podrick softly reminded her.  
  
“Meat and mead at my table. And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new. Arise.”  
  
Brienne stood up and smiled at her. Sansa couldn’t help but smile back.

  



	16. Sandor

Sandor felt he was close. An hour ago, he had passed the bodies of a hunting party. The bodies were still warm when he found them.  
  
He had followed the tracks he had found that led further north. He stopped his horse when he heard voices in the distance. He decided he would walk the rest leading his horse at his reins.  
  
He came closer and could hear the voices more clearly now, just beyond the trees.  
  
“I saw her with a man. I don’t think he hurt her. She didn’t want to leave him. He didn’t want to leave her.”  
  
“How did she look?” Sandor felt his heart jump at the voice he would recognize every time. Sansa.  
  
“She looked good. She wasn’t exact…” Brienne stood up and pulled her sword, when he stepped on a twig.  
  
“Identify yourself” she yelled at him, pushing Sansa behind her. Sandor had kept his hood up so his face was barely visible.  
  
“You know who I am, you just spoke about me,” he said in a low voice.  
  
“That’s impossible.”  
  
Sandor pushed down his hood and Brienne’s eyes widened in surprise and shock.  
  
“You?!” Brienne said in disbelief.  
  
Sansa stepped out from behind Brienne. Even with her cloak torn, and her hair matted she still looked beautiful. Her eyes widened when she saw him. He felt the earth still around him. Would she hate him? Would she back away from him?  
  
“Little bird,” he spoke softly, feeling warmth spread in his chest at seeing her.  
  
She slowly walked towards him, her eyes fixed at his face.  
  
“My Lady,” Brienne called from behind her, but she kept walking over.  
  
When she was just a few steps away, he could see that tears welled in her deep blue eyes.  
Before Sandor had the chance to think about it she flung herself into in arms and buried her face into his chest.  
Sandor was taken aback by her reaction. He put his arms around her and pulled her into a tight embrace. He felt her body shaking with sobs. He kissed the crown of her hair.  
  
“I am here little bird. I am here,” he softly whispered while rubbing her back.  
  
“I am here and will never again go away.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update maybe later this weekend.Stay tuned!


	17. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that the update took so long. My beta (bless her) has very little time due to her ft job,but she still uses her little time to read my stuff.

It felt good to feel his strong arms around her. It reminded Sansa of the way her father had held her when she was a young girl. Her tears fell freely and she didn’t have the power to hold them back. Sandor simply held her and stroked her back in small circles. After a while, she finally looked up at him and could see that his eyes were shimmering with tears. Sansa touched his scarred cheek with her hand.  
  
“Are you real? Am I dreaming?” she whispered.  
  
“I am real, little bird. I am here.”  
  
She buried her face again against his chest. “I thought I’d never see you again.”  
  
“I thought so too, little bird, I thought so too.”  
  
Their closeness was interrupted by Brienne. “My Lady, Podrick has lit the fire. We should eat and rest.”  
  
Sansa turned to Brienne, wiping away the evidence of her tears. She kept a small smile on her face. “Of course, Brienne. Do you know Sandor Clegane?”  
  
Brienne frowned. “Yes, I met him once before when I found your sister. He was the man I was talking about.”  
  
Sansa turned back to Sandor. “You found my sister?” she asked, her tone filled with hope.  
  
“Aye, but your sister left me after I was nearly killed this woman,” he gestured to Brienne.  
  
Sansa’s eyes widened, but Brienne spoke up before she had the chance to say anything. “My Lady, in my defense, I didn’t know you and your sister were familiar with him. I beg apology, ser.”  
  
Sandor chuckled. “I am no ser, but I will accept your apology. We should eat something…It’s been a long day.”  
  
Sandor led his horse over to where the others were tied, grabbing some bags. He sat down next to Podrick at the fire and helped him skin hares.  
  
Sansa still couldn’t really believe it. Sandor had returned. So often she had dreamed of how things would have been different if he had stayed after the battle of the Blackwater and now he was here.  
  
Theon walked over to her and told her he would depart to finally go home.  
  
“You are not coming with us?” Sansa asked.  
  
“I would have taken you all the way to the Wall. I would have died to get you there.” He pointed towards Sandor and Brienne. “But they will keep you safer than I ever could.”  
  
They shared one last hug and Theon rode off with one of the horses.  
  
Sansa stood there a bit lost after Theon had left and Sandor came over to her, putting his cloak around her.  
  
“Here, little bird. You are nearly frozen” he softly said as he placed the cloak around her and guided her towards the fire.  
  
Sansa remembered the time after the Blackwater when she had found comfort being wrapped in Sandor’s dirty white cloak after days when Joffrey had been particularly cruel to her.  
  
They ate in silence. Sandor only asked once where they were heading now.  
  
“My brother Jon is Lord Commander of the Nights Watch. We will be safe there,” Sansa had answered, gazing into the fire.  
  
After they all had finished their share of roasted hare Sandor had given her some dried fruits.  
  
“No lemoncakes, unfortunately”, he had told her.  
  
Sansa smiled at him. He had remembered her favorite treats. She could not recall the last time she had lemoncakes. Must have been during her time at the Eyrie when her aunt was still alive. _Petyr had brought the lemons from Kings Landing. He really cares for you_ , her aunt had said  
  
It was getting late and Sandor said he would take the first watch. Brienne and Podrick left for their bedrolls, but Sansa decided to spend some time with Sandor. She was dead tired, but she had so many questions to ask and sleep would only bring nightmares.  
  
She sat next to him at the fire and pulled her cloak tightly around her.  
They sat in silence next to each other. Only the cracking of the fire interrupted the silence from time to time.  
  
“Sandor?”  
  
“Hmm?”  
  
“What happened after you left Kings Landing? Brienne said you found my sister?” Sansa asked in a hopeful tone.  
  
“I found your sister, when the brotherhood caught me. They wanted me dead for the atrocities my brother committed in the Riverlands, but I survived the trial by combat. Your sister was furious, she still wanted me dead for that butcher boy that I killed back at the Trident.”  
  
“Yes I remember…it was the day father killed… my direwolf,” Sansa sadly remembered. _Get her a dog she'll be happier for it_.  
  
Sandor paused, then cleared his throat. “I abducted your sister a few days later to bring her back to your brother and get a ransom for her, but we didn’t make to the Twins in time. To our luck in the end... After that we tried to get to the Eyrie, but when we reached the Bloodgate, we heard your aunt had passed away few days before we arrived.”  
  
Sansa couldn’t help but laugh and shake her head. _Sandor had been so close_.  
  
“What?” Sandor asked slightly amused.  
  
“I was in the Eyrie at that time,” Sansa smiled sadly at him. _We were so close_.  
  
Sandor starred into the flames. His expression was unreadable, and she wondered what he was thinking.  
  
“Two days later we ran into these two” he pointed over to the sleeping forms in their bedrolls. “I dont know her, and thought she served the Lannisters so I fought her. I told your sister she should go with her when she watched me dying, but your sister never listens.”  
  
Sansa had to smile at that. “No, she never used to listen. Where did she go?”  
  
“Hells, if I know. She stole my silver and rode off. She mentioned she had friends in Braavos once.”  
  
Her sister had always a way to make friends. Maybe she was in Braavos. Sansa hoped she was safe. She had always been a survivor. She looked at Sandor. “How did you survive?”  
  
“A septon found me. Ironic, I know. Of all people that could have found me it had to be a bloody septon that saved me. A man that never believed in the gods. He took care of my wounds and I stayed with him and helped him build a sept.”  
  
“I have a hard time seeing you chopping wood for a sept,” Sansa said in a teasing tone. Sandor chuckled.  
  
“It was good work. Septon Ray made me see many aspects of myself I didn’t know. He was killed by some men of the brotherhood that had gone rogue. I killed them and I met Beric Dondarion and his men again. He asked if I want to stay with them and so I helped them in preparing the smallfolk for the winter.”  
  
“I am sor…”, but he interrupted her before she finished her sentence.  
  
“Don’t be. If I wouldn’t have met the brotherhood again, I wouldn’t have been in the inn where you have been...”  
  
_He is different_ , Sansa thought, _something gentled the rage inside him_. She thought of her prayer to the Mother the night of the Blackwater.  
  
“You’ve changed,” she said quietly.  
  
Sandor laughed. “So have you, Sansa.”  
  
“Why have you come for me?” Sansa asked.  
  
He seemed to deeply think about it. The corner of his mouth turned into a small smile.  
  
Sansa fought to suppress a yawn. It was as if exhaustion had come over her.  
  
“You are asleep on your feet. Get some sleep. We can talk tomorrow,” he said.  
  
Sansa was genuinely curious, but decided to take his advice. She heard him whisper something she couldn’t understand while she walked to her bedroll.  
She was safe. She was finally free, and soon she would be reunited with another close ally. She would rest easy that night, knowing Sandor was there to protect her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you would rather like to read unbetaed chapters or betaed ones, but the updates might take a few days or a week. leave a comment and let me know.


	18. Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay my lovely readers, I have decided to post the unbetaed chapters,but i will update them as soon as my friend manages to beta them. The changes wont be that big, so it is possible that a betaed chapter and an unbetaed only differ by one word. So you wont miss anything if you read them right away :D

Sandor was beyond relieved he had found Sansa. His fears that she would reject him had turned to dust when she had flung herself in his arms.  
She had changed since the last time he had seen her. No courtesies anymore. Somehow, a part of him missed it.She no longer chirped like the little bird she was.  
  
She had also grown since he had left her. She had flowered into the beauty he always expected her to become. But her eyes had lost the last spark of innocence.

After she had gone to bed he sat by the fire, lost in thoughts. He had been so close to her in the Vale. He should have asked to stay in the Eyrie for a few days. _She has been so damn close_.  
  
He jumped to his feet when he heard Sansa woke up screaming. Brienne was at her site at an instant, calming her down. He couldn’t her what she was saying to her but, but it seemed to work. Sandor felt his heart clench at the sight.  
  
Sansa didn’t say anything about it in the morning, but he could see that Sansa hadn’t slept much.  
  
After a quick breakfast they had ridden for hours without any incidents. In the early afternoon they had to hide, when a group of ten rider passed them. They rode under the white sun. Karstarks. They took the route to Winterfell and passed them without troubles.

In the late afternoon, when the sun started to go down, they reached a small sea. The weather was getting worse and snowfall had set in.  
They decided to make camp. Podrick wasn’t able to catch anything, so they had to eat dried meats for dinner.  
After they finished Podrick went off into the forest to collect more wood. Brienne took her seat on her bedroll and sharpened her sword.  
He could feel Briennes eyes on his back when Sansa sat closer to him.

“Little bird?”, he asked  
  
“Yes?”, she softly said.  
  
“I need to know something. How did you end up with Littlefinger?”  
  
Sansa pulled her cloak tighter around her.  
  
“He…he saved me. He smuggled me out of Kings Landing in the chaos of Joffreys death.”  
  
Sansa told him how he had brought her to the Eyrie and how she had covered up for him after the incident that ended in her aunt’s death.  
She told him how he had promised to keep her safe and what part he had in killing Joffrey.  
  
Sansa looked at him with trembling lips.  
  
“I should have gone with you when I had the chance. Back when the Blackwater burned. I should have gone with you, but I was afraid.”  
  
“No little bird. You were right to stay. I was an angry drunkard driven by my hate on the world. I would have got us killed within a week...or worse. I was a mess back then and I failed you. I should have stayed. I should have been there for you when the lions gave you to the imp.”  
  
Sandor remembered the anger he felt, when he heard that Sansa had been forced to marry the imp.  
  
“That’s the only good thing Littlefucker did to you, to take you fare away from the imp.”

  


Sansa surprised him, when she said that Tyrion had behaved honorable towards her and even threated to geld Joffrey during their wedding when he called for the bedding.  
Sandor laughed heartily at that earning him strange looks from Brienne.  
  
“And he also refused to share my bed, despite the threats of his father”, Sansa said.  
  
That surprised Sandor even more. He only knew Tyrion as a man who never let an opportunity pass to share his bed with a woman. He felt some kind of strange respect towards Tyrion now.  
  
They sat at the fire for a short moment in silence. A bird could be heard chirping in the woods.  
  
“Sansa, what happened at Winterfell?”, he hated himself for asking, but he needed to know.  
  
Sansa didn’t answer, but the way her jaw clenched and she adverted her eyes was answer enough.  
  
Sandor felt anger and hate rise in him. It was like a something had reawakened in him, that he thought was long gone. He would make that bastard suffer.  
  
Sansa must have felt his anger and placed her hand on his.  
  
“I can’t talk about it. Not right now. But I will tell you everything someday, because I trust you.You came back for me.”  
  
Sandor gave her hand a light squeeze and nodded.  
  
She trusts me, Sandor thought, I wont let her down.  
Never again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next PoV: Brienne


	19. Brienne

It had been a week since they had finally rescued Sansa and started their journey north to the wall.  
At first Brienne had been suspicious of the Clegane. After all he was known as the Lannister hound.  
  
Brienne was surprised to witness the interaction between him and Lady Sansa. Each day bled into the next, a dull routine. They started their travels early each morning when the sun had just begun to rise, riding the whole day with only small breaks, before making camp into the evening. Every evening she saw how Sansa talked with the Hound before she went to bed. It was strange to see him with her. After all he had a reputation throughout Westeros. He even made her smile from time to time.  
  
Brienne was happy to see her lady smile. Lady Catelyn had told her how much Sansa loved songs and tales of true nights and how her laughter has filled the halls of Winterfell.  
Brienne didn’t know what had happened in Winterfell and Sansa was neither telling her nor Sandor Clegane. Brienne had asked him once. The pained expression he had when he told Brienne that Sansa didn’t tell him, was evidence enough. She kept the pain and the memories to herself.  
  
Every night Sansa woke up screaming and kicking. Brienne did her best to calm her down, but one night she only calmed down when Clegane whispered something in her ear and held her until she was asleep again. Brienne watched the scene from the campfire with Podrick.  
  
This night Brienne had first watch and Podrick kept company with her. Sansa had calmed down and Sandor returned to his bedroll.  
  
“Do you trust him?”,Brienne asked Pod, who looked surprised to be asked anything.  
  
“With Lady Sansa or in general?”,he asked, slightly dumbfounded.  
  
“Both Pod,” she said, rolling her eyes. “ You must know him from your time as Lord Tyrions squire in Kings Landing.”  
  
“He was a fierce warrior back in Kings Landing. He was well known for being drunk and angry all the time. I haven’t seen him with her often in Kings Landing, but Lord Tyrion mentioned one or two situations where he apparently saved and protected her.”  
  
Podrick poked around in the fire.  
  
“What situations Pod?”  
  
“I don’t know for sure. One day her brother Robb had won a battle and the day the city was in uprising after princess Myrcella departed to Dorne. Many people died that day. I don’t know details, but Clegane apparently went back to find Lady Sansa when no one else did. Maybe you should ask him milady.”  
  
Pod went to bed shortly afterwards and Brienne thought about the best way to ask him. She needed to know, if this man really had the best intentions.

  


When they made camp on the next day they could already see the wall on the horizon. They would reach the wall within the next days and lady Sansa would hopefully finally be reunited with her brother.  
  
When Podrick was collecting wood and Sansa had a fallen asleep for a while, she finally asked Clegane, what he had done for Sansa in the capital.  
  
Brienne was shocked when she heard of Sansa time in the capital. Lady Catelyn and Brienne had believed that Sansa had been treated with the respect a high born lady deserved.  
  
“Why have you done all these things for her?”, Brienne asked after he had finished.  
  
“Saved her from the mob. Shielded her with your cloak? It doesn’t suit your reputation…”  
  
He didn’t answer for a long time, when he finally said.  
  
“I had my reasons”,he responded brusquely  
  
Brienne didn’t dig deeper. She didn’t know what was going on between Clegane and lady Sansa, but I was enough for her to know that he would keep her save as she did.

  


In the afternoon of the next day they finally reached Castle Black. The castle looked more like a ruin. They were eyed curious, when they rode over the courtyard. Lady Sansa first looked around uncertain, but her eyes finally fixed on a young man.He slowly descended down the stairs staring at her as if she might disappear any second. They both just stared at each other. And Brienne held her breath. Finally, they ran to each other, the brother scooping Sansa into his arm’s and twirling her around.  
  
Brienne breathed a sigh of relief. Sansa looked so happy, closing her eyes in relief. Brienne felt like a heavy burden had been lifted off her shoulders. She prayed Sansa would be safe now.

  



	20. Sansa

She was finally reunited with her family. Sansa deeply regretted that she had treated Jon so poorly during their childhood. All the time during the journey, she had feared Jon would reject and hate her, because she was the wrong sister that had returned. Sansa hoped Jon would accept her apology later.  
  
Sansa finally had the chance to take a bath. Jon had told her Castle Black had a bathhouse. Sandor and Brienne stood guard outside the door while she soaked in. Pod had told her he could take care of her dress.  
  
The bathhouse was just one room with large tube. A piece of soap and a sponge lay onto a table next to the tube with everything else she might need for her bath. Jon had taken care of that. Sansa smiled deeply when she saw that Jon had somehow managed to find some lavender oil.  
  
Sansa poured the oil into the steaming water and the smell immediately filled the room.  
  
Sansa removed her remaining clothes and stepped into the water. She sank in until only her head remained above the waterline. Sansa deeply inhaled the scent that surrounded her. The warmth soothed her sore muscles and her bruised flesh.  
  
It felt good to finally wash of the dirt of the last weeks. Sansa scrubbed herself clean and washed her hair. She saw that the bruises and marks Ramsay had left on her skin had nearly disappeared. Still there were other wounds the eye couldn’t see, but she still felt.

While Sansa enjoyed the heat of the water for a while after she finished her wash, her thoughts drifted of to the people guarding the door.  
  
Brienne was a fierce and loyal warrior. She would be as loyal to her as she was to her mother. Sandor on the other hand was a different matter.  
He had helped her in Kings Landing. He had helped her more often than Sansa had realized back then. He came back for her during the bread riots and covered her in his cloak. He still hadn’t answered her question, why he came back for her.  
  
Her thoughts were interrupted by Brienne knocking on the door.  
  
“My Lady, Podrick has returned with you dress.”  
  
“Just a moment Brienne.”  
  
Sansa stepped out of the tube and dried herself. She slipped into her shift and opened the door a bit, so Brienne could handover her dress.  
  
Sansa closed the door again and slipped into her dress. Podrick had outdone himself, it looked as good as new. Sansa brushed her hair until it shone and braided it into a simple braid. 

  


When Sansa came out of the bathhouse she could see that Sandor eyed her from head to toe. She could swear she saw his jaw drop slightly. It made Sansa blush.  
  
Brienne escorted her to her dinner with Jon. Both shared stories of the childhood and Sansa tried to convince Jon to help her retake Winterfell. Jon was tired of fighting. He had tried to do the right thing and his brothers of the nightswatch had murdered him. Sansa was shocked when she heard he only was alive, because of the red woman. In the end Sansa managed to convince him to help her. Jon had also accepted Sansas apology for her treatment when they were young.  
  
Jon escorted her to the room he had prepared for her. Before they got there Jon told her he wanted her to meet someone.  
  
Sansa squealed when Ghost trotted over to her. Sansa buried her face in his soft fur and couldn’t help but think of Lady. She would have grown so big. Sadness filled her heart when she remembered how well behaved she had been.   
Ghost seemed to feel her sadness and licked her cheek. Sansa had to giggle at the rough tongue on her cheek.  
  
When she reached her room she saw that Sandor already waited at the door. He slightly bowed his head.  
  
Sansa wished Jon and Sandor a good night and entered the room. Before the door closed she could hear Sandor say,” Sleep well, little bird”.  
  
She just waited for a moment when she heard Jon talk to Sandor.  
  
“Thank you, for keeping my sister safe.”  
  
“Always. I failed her before, I will never fail her again.”  
  
Sansa felt warmth spread in her chest. She went to bed and Sansa felt completely safe for the first time in ages.

  



	21. Sandor

Sandor had stood guard at Sansa’s door for the whole night. He didn’t trust the so called brothers of Jon Snow. It was well known that most of them were rapists that had preferred the wall over being gelded as punishment.  
  
It was the first night she hadn’t awoken screaming. Sandor was glad for it. Sansa looked like she hadn’t slept enough for a long time.  
  
Sandor had been speechless when he saw her yesterday after her bath. She had looked more beautiful than ever. The Maiden could have stand beside her; she would have paled against Sansa. The light of the fading day had made Sansa’s hair shine like a fiery halo around her beautiful face.  
  
In the early hours came Brienne to take his watch. After some hours of sleep Sandor spent the rest of the morning with Sansa. They been on top of the wall and Sansa had told him with widely smiling how big her brothers direwolf had grown. Sandor barely remembered the day at the Trident when he had first talked to Sansa. Back then she had led her wolf at a leash with some colored ribbons if he remembered correctly.  
  
  
In the afternoon they met in the main hall with her brother. Brienne and Podrick were already there and sat right of Sansa. That wildling friend of Sansa´s brother sat across Brienne. Jon and his nightswatch brother on his right. Sandor chose to sit at the head of the table on the left next to Sansa.  
  
They ate in silence. Sansa picked at her food and only ate a few bites of bread. Sandor couldn’t blame her. In most of Westeros this wouldn’t be called food. Sandor didn’t miss the look that wildling gave Brienne while chewing on whatever animal that once had been.  
  
Sandor had to chuckle. Sansa looked at him curious, while she poked her food with her fork.  
  
“Sorry about the food. It’s not what we’re known for”, the nightswatch man said.  
  
“That’s all right. There are more important things”, Sansa said giving him a small smile.  
  
Another Nightswatch brother entered the hall and handed Sansas brother a letter.  
  
Sansa became uneasy, when she saw that the letter bore the flayed man sigil.  
  
Jon broke the seal and started reading.  
  
“ _To the traitor and bastard Jon Snow. You allowed thousands of wildlings past the Wall. You have betrayed your own kind. You have betrayed the North. Winterfell is mine, bastard. Come and see. Your brother Rickon is in my dungeon_ …”.  
  
Jon and Sansa exchanged looks.  
  
“ _His direwolf's skin is on my floor. Come and see. I want my bride back. Send her to me, bastard, and I will not trouble you or your wildling lovers. Keep her from me and I will ride north and slaughter every wildling man, woman, and babe living under your protection. You will watch as I skin them living. You..._ “  
  
Sandor could see how Sansa tensed at the word _bride_ and he felt anger rise in him.  
  
“Go on”, Sansa urged him.  
  
Jon threw the letter on the table.  
  
“It's just more of the same.”  
  
Sansa grabbed the letter before Jon could stop her. Brienne eyed Sansa nervously.  
  
“ _You will watch as my soldiers take turns raping your sister. You will watch as my dogs devour your wild little brother. Then I will spoon your eyes from their sockets and let my dogs do the rest. Come and see. Ramsay Bolton, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North_.”  
  
Sandor felt the burned side of his mouth twitch while Sansa read. His right hand shook slightly and he clenched it to a fist to stop it from shaking.  
  
“Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North”, Sansas brother said slowly.  
  
Sandor had heard enough. He needed to let of some steam. He stormed out of the hall down to the courtyard where some men of the nightswatch were sparing.  
  
Sandor spared against three men, but they were no real match for him. Fueled by hate, even the Warrior had no chance against him.  
  
When the third men yielded he saw Sansa walk back to her room. Brienne was shortly behind her. Sansas face gave no emotion away, her mouth in a tight line. He had seen that expression often enough in Kings Landing, after Joffrey was finished with his cruel games. Her mask would soon fall. Sandor walked back to his room after putting away the training swords, when Brienne called him from behind.  
  
“Clegane, wait.”  
  
Sandor turned to her.  
  
“You must come with me.”  
  
“Why? What happened?”  
  
“Lady Sansa locked herself in her room. She doesn’t open the door and I heard her crying, when I went looking for you. Maybe she will talk to you.”  
  
Sandor felt his heart clench. Sandor felt the need to comfort her. He walked off Sansas room and Brienne had practically to run after him.  
  
When they reached Sansas room he could hear her sobs through the door.  
  
He knocked two times.  
  
“Go…away”, Sansa softly said between two sobs.  
  
“It’s me little bird. Let me in.”  
  
He heard soft steps coming over to the door. The door opened a small gap and Sandor looked into deep blue pools red rimed from crying.  
  
She nodded and Sandor entered the room.

  



	22. Sandor

As soon as Sandor had entered the room, Sansa closed and barred the door behind him. Before he had the chance to say anything Sansa flung herself in his arms. She clutched on him as if her very life depended on it.  
  
Sandor didn’t know what had happened, but he felt she just needed to be hold at the moment. So he held her and whispered soothing words to her while she sobbed into his tunic.  
  
“Sandor”, Sansa softly sobbed.  
  
“He has my brother and he is coming for me.”  
  
Sandor tensed up. What had that bloody bastard done to her to make her so frightened, that a simple letter could cause her to have such a breakdown.  
  
“He won’t ever lay hands on you again, little bird. I promise.”  
  
Sansa let go off him and walked over to her bed. She sat down on the edge and pulled her legs up to her chest before she whispered.  
  
“The last time I got a promise about Ramsay, that person was wrong.”  
  
She shook her head.  
  
“ _He is already fallen for you_ , he had said, _make him yours_ he said.”  
  
Sandor didn’t understand.  
  
“What? Who said that that?”, Sandor asked and sat next to her on the bed.  
  
“Petyr said that to me down in the crypts in Winterfell, before he rode back to Kings Landing after Cersei demanded his presence.”  
  
Sandor decided it would be the best just to listen. When he was with septon Ray, he had learned that listening was sometimes better than saying anything.  
  
“We had a plan you know”, Sansa wriggled her hands in her lap. Sandor had seen her do it often in Kings Landing when she had was in Joffrey’s presence. Her tears still flowing freely down her face.  
  
“Either Stannis would win and make me wardeness of the north, because my father supported his claim, or I would turn Ramsay against his father and bring house Bolton down from the inside. But Petyr was wrong. Stannis didn’t win and Ramsay wasn’t as _fallen for me_ as he expected. Ramsay outplayed him. As soon as Petyr was gone, Ramsay started to show his true nature.”  
  
Sansa looked to the floor.  
  
“What did he do, little bird?”, Sandor softly asked.  
  
“It started harmless enough, presenting Theon to me. Reminding me constantly that he was the one that started the downfall of my family with his betrayal. Making him apologize to me for the supposedly murder of my baby brothers. Letting Theon be the one that gave me away at the wedding. That were just the mind games he liked to play. His father tolerated them, finding his own amusement in reminding him that he is just a bastard. That was the time, when I still thought that Petyrs plan could work, but I quickly learned on my wedding night what Ramsay really was.”  
  
Sansa looked at him with unshed tears glittering in her eyes.  
  
“Sansa, you don’t have to tal…”, Sandor started, but Sansa pressed her finger onto his lips to stop him.  
  
“I want to tell, I need to tell, but I will only tell it to you. I love Jon and I trust Brienne, but you are different to me. I often missed the feeling I had around you in Kings Landing after you left. The feeling of having someone to trust completely. Someone honest, without ulterior thoughts. You trusted me, when you told me about your scars back at my father’s tourney. I trust you Sandor, I think I trusted you all the time.”  
  
She smiled sadly and another tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
“He made Theon watch, you know, during…while he…”, she said close to a whisper.  
  
Sandor tensed and she took his hand in hers.  
  
“When he was finished he dragged me bruised, bleeding and crying through the castle for everyone to see me and I was locked into my room, before my maidensblood had dried. Every night he came for hours to show me, how much he was _fallen for me_. His father didn’t care what he did to me, as long as sooner or later an heir would come and Ramsay made sure that my only function for him wasn’t damaged by the things he did.”  
  
With every of Sansas words Sandor felt something in him rise that he thought was buried a long time ago. He felt the Hound reawaken in him. Sansa looked sadly to the ground.  
  
“Maybe after all I am still the stupid little girl that will always be a pawn in the greater game. I simply wanted my home back. I hoped my fathers and brothers banner men would be there to help me, but not a single one came to the wedding. Nobody cared about my fate.”  
  
Sandor knelt before her and gently swiped away the tears with his thumbs. She looked at him with huge blue pools glittering with emotions her lower lip quivering.  
  
“Sansa”, he began trying to keep his hate for Littlefinger out of his voice,” you are neither stupid nor a little girl. What you did was incredible brave. Most men wouldn’t have been as brave as you. It has been Littlefingers plan and you were a part of it. I don’t know if he knew what would happen or not. I don’t know if he willingly took the risk. It doesn’t matter to me. What matters is that you have survived. And I promise you that bastard will pay for what he did to you. You are not alone Sansa. You have your brother that loves you, he is a good man and Brienne is also a beast of a woman, I can tell you.”  
  
“And I have you”, Sansa shyly smiled at him.  
  
“Aye and I will never leave you again. I will help you take everything back that belongs to you. I will slay that bastard with my bare hands for what he did to you.”  
  
“You still haven’t answered my question.”  
  
Sandor looked down. He had hoped she would have forgotten her question. He didn’t know if he was ready to reveal his truest feelings, why he came back. He only had opened up once with septon Ray before.  
  
“Why have you come for me?”, she gently asked again, like she did back in the woods.  
  
“I came for you, because you mean everything for me Sansa. You are the first person I ever cared about. I felt it back in Kings Landing, but I drowned all emotions in sour red. I denied the things I felt, because I thought them a weakness. Septon Ray once told me the last thing you see before you die, is the only thing that ever meant something to you. When I was close to the kiss of the Stranger and the fever burned me from the inside the only thing I saw was you. You are the only reason I wanted to live.”  
  
Sansa rose from the bed and flung her arms around his torso. The simply hugged each other in silence. Sandors thoughts circled around everything Sansa had told him. Sandor felt something wet on his face and realized it were tears.

  



	23. Sansa

Sansa sat in her room. She was sewing a new dress for herself. Sandor was at the forge. Jon had ordered the smith, to make Sandor a new sword, fitting the man defending his sister. Jon was busied with Davos gathering news from the other northern houses and Brienne was trying to hide from the looks that red headed wildling gave her. Every time he saw Brienne, he would smile like a fool. Brienne always looked uncomfortable around him.  
  
Sansa had just finished embroidering a delicate direwolf onto her dress. She eyed her work and trailed it with her finger to check for loose threats.  
  
She couldn’t help but to think of yesterday. She had told him what had happened in Winterfell. It felt good to share the memory with someone. She felt lighter today. And she finally got the answer she had craved for. _You mean everything to me_ , he had said. They had hold each other for a long time after. Her thoughts were interrupted when someone knocked on her door.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
A brother of the nightswatch entered and hands her a letter. It is sealed with Petyrs mockingbird.  
  
“How does he know I am here?”, Sansa asked herself.  
  
She breaks the seal and read the letter. It didn’t give much away, but Petyr apparently wanted to meet at some place called Mole’s Town.  
  
“How far is Mole’s Town?”, Sansa asked the nightswatch man.  
  
“About five miles south of Castle Black. It was raided by the wildlings and nobody survived that massacre.”  
  
Sansa nodded and the man left her alone. She decided she would meet with him. She had to find out, if he knew about Ramsay. But she wouldn’t meet him alone, that time was over. She put away her sewing and grabbed her cloak, before leaving the room.

Sansa and Brienne could now see Mole’s Town. Most building had been burned down. Sansa had left Sandor behind in Castle Black. Sansa didn’t want Baelish to know that he had returned.  
  
Sansa spotted a single horse that was tied in front of a building that might have been a brothel back in the days.  
  
“How fitting”, Sansa thought to herself while she got of her horse.  
  
When she entered the building, Petyr already awaited her with his back to her. Sansa kept her distance, when he turned to her.  
  
“Sansa”, he greeted her smiling.  
  
Brienne entered the room and took her place behind Sansa. Petyr smile disappeared.  
  
“Lady Brienne”  
  
He turned back to Sansa.  
  
“When I heard you had escaped Winterfell, I feared the worst. You have no idea how happy I am to see you unharmed.”  
  
_Unharmed_ , Sansa thought bitterly. She couldn’t be farther away from unharmed.  
  
“Unharmed? What are you doing here?”, Sansa said.  
  
“I rode north with the Knights of the Vale to come to your aid. They’re encamped at Moat Cailin as we speak.”  
  
How does it come that he knew about my escape? There was one question that burned in her. She needed an answer.  
  
“To come to my aid? Did you know about Ramsay? If you didn’t know, you’re an idiot. If you did know, you’re my enemy. “  
  
So what is it Petyr? When he didn’t attempt to answer her, Sansa started to give details of Ramsay treatment of her. Sansa left out the details she had given Sandor. Sansa could trust Sandor. Petyr either blindly sent her there or he knew what would happen and willingly took the risk. Sansa could see his mask crack for a short moment, before he started to guess what Ramsay had done.  
  
“Maybe you did know about Ramsay all along.”  
  
“I didn’t know, “he said stepping closer.  
  
“I thought you knew everyone’s secrets”, Sansa said. That’s what everybody had told her about him. That’s what he had told her on the way to the Eyrie.  
  
“I made a mistake, a horrible mistake. I underestimated a stranger. “  
  
If you didn’t know this stranger, why did you gave me to him, she wanted to yell at him.  
  
“The other things he did, ladies aren’t supposed to talk about those things, but I imagine brothel keepers talk about them all the time. I can still feel it. I don’t mean in my tender heart it still pains me so. I can still feel what he did in my body standing here right now.”  
  
He had a pained look on his face.  
  
“I am so sorry.”  
  
He seemed to be genuinely sorry, but that didn’t change the fact what he had promised her to keep her safe and he had had been wrong.  
  
“You said you would protect me. I trusted you.” You said he is already _fallen for me_.  
  
“And I will. You must believe me when I tell you that I will.”  
  
I am not Alayne anymore, that believed everything you told her.  
  
“I don’t believe you anymore. I don’t need you anymore. You can’t protect me. You won’t even be able to protect yourself if I tell Brienne or Sa…someone else to cut you down. And why shouldn’t I?”  
  
“Do you want me to beg for my life? If that’s what you want, I will. Whatever you ask that is in my power, I will do,” he said in a plain voice.  
  
I want you to feel how I feel, but that’s hardly possible, Sansa thought.  
  
“What if I want you to die here and now?”  
  
“Then I will die“, he immediately answered. Sansa felt her anger rise.  
  
“You freed me from the monsters who murdered my family and you gave me to other monsters who murdered my family. Go back to Moat Cailin. My brother and I will take back the North on our own. I never want to see you again.“  
  
“I would do anything to undo what’s been done to you.”  
  
Sansa was sure he would. He still wanted her for his plans whatever they might be.  
  
“I know that I can’t. Will you allow me to say one more thing before I go? Your great-uncle Brynden the Blackfish has gathered what remains of the Tully forces and retaken Riverrun. You might consider seeking him out. The time may come when you need an army loyal to you.”  
  
Sansa hadn’t seen her great-uncle since she has been a little girl. Her great-uncle had visited Winterfell shortly before Bran was born. She barely remembered him.  
  
“I have an army”, Sansa said.  
  
Petyr walked over to leave but stopped right next to her.  
  
“Your brother’s army. Half-brother.” With that he left and Sansa stood there hearing him ride away.  
  
Sansa straightened her back.  
  
“Are you alright, my lady?”, Brienne asked placing a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Of course I am”, Sansa snapped at her. Brienne took a step back.  
  
“I am sorry Brienne. We should head back to Castle Black”, Sansa said with an apologizing smile.  
  
They both mounted her horses and rode back. During the whole time riding back, Sansa had to thought about what her Petyr had said to her.


	24. Sandor

Sandor had spent most of the morning at the forge with the smith. Sansa had ridden off with Brienne around midday. She hadn’t told him where she would be riding, but he knew she would be safe with Brienne at her site. Maybe she just needed a change of scenery.  
  
Castle Black wasn’t exactly the place where you had much to do. While Sandor and Brienne often busied themselves with sparing and teaching Podrick some tricks, Sansa most of the time spent her time in her room sewing. Sandor remembered how often Sansa had spent in Kings Landing with her sewing, just to be mocked for it by Joffrey.  
  
Sandor saw Jon Snow walking with the Onion knight. Sandor thought him a good lad. He might spend too much time brooding, but he seemed to have leadership qualities. After all he was elected Lord Commander after just a few years of serving. When Sansa told him that her brother has been murdered by his so called brothers and was only alive, because of the red woman, Sandor wouldn’t have believed it, if he had not seen the power of the red god with his own eyes.

  
  


During the afternoon Sansa brother called them in the dining hall, to plan how to retake the north. A map showed all the houses of the North with their strength.  
  
Sandor had never been much of a strategist, he left that to the high born pricks, but even he knew that they needed more men. Two thousand wildlings wouldn’t be enough to defeat the Boltons.  
  
Ser Davos moved some map marker on a pile with the Bolton ones.  
  
“The Umbers and the Karstarks have already declared for the Boltons, so we’re not doing so well there.”  
  
“The Umbers gave Rickon to our enemies. They can hang. But the Karstarks declared for Ramsay without knowing they had another choice”, Sansa said.  
  
It was true. The Umbers had handed over Sansas little brother to the Boltons. The Bolton man that had brought the letter, confirmed it before he rode off.  
  
“I beg your pardon, my lady, but they know that a Stark beheaded their father. I don’t think we can count on them either. “  
  
By the way Sansa looked Sandor knew she was annoyed.  
  
“How well do you know the North, Ser Davos?”, she asked him in an annoyed tone.  
  
“Precious little, my lady “, he answered calmly.  
  
“My father always said Northerners are different. More loyal, more suspicious of outsiders.”  
  
It was well known all over Westeros, that the northmen had a strange kind of loyalty.  
  
“They may well be loyal, but how many rose up against the Boltons when they betrayed your family? I may not know the North, but I know men. They’re more or less the same in any corner of the world and even the bravest of them don’t want to see their wives and children skinned for a lost cause. If Jon’s going to convince them to fight alongside him, they need to believe it’s a fight they can win.”  
  
He saw how Sansa tensed. She probably remembered how not a single banner men came to her wedding.  
  
Her brother sighted.  
  
“There are still other houses in the North. We can start small and build.”  
  
“The North remembers. They remember the Stark name. People will still risk everything for it, from White Harbor to Ramsay’s own door. I have seen it myself. One woman died during my time in Winterfell for being a Stark loyalist.”  
  
“I don’t doubt it. But Jon doesn’t have the Stark name.”  
  
“No, but I do”, Sansa declared.  
  
Everybody looked at her. Sansa continued.  
  
“Jon is every bit as much Ned Stark’s son as Ramsay is Roose Bolton’s. With me a trueborn child we have a chance to bring the houses to our site. And there are also the Tully’s. They’re not Northern, but they will back us against the Bolton’s without question. Our brother Robb was also their king.”  
  
Davos frowned.  
  
“I didn’t know the Tully’s still had an army.”  
  
“They didn’t,” Sandor wanted to say. He had seen the Tully army being massacred alongside the Starks during the red wedding.  
  
“My great-uncle the Blackfish has reformed it and retaken Riverrun.”  
  
Her brother didn’t seem convinced.  
  
“How do you know that?”, he asked her.  
  
“Ramsay received a raven before I escaped Winterfell”, Sansa happily declared.  
  
_Lie_. The way Sansa wrung her hands slightly gave away her lie. She had gotten better at lying. The others might not notice, but he knew her long enough. What are you up too little bird, Sandor asked himself. He would ask her later.  
  
“That’s good. The Blackfish is a legend. His support would mean a great deal. Stark, Tully, a few more houses, almost starts to look like a winning side”, Davos said and the meeting ended.  
  
Sansa left the room with Brienne. Jon, Tormund and Davos were discussing where they should go first.  
  
“Maybe the Hornwoods”, Davos suggested.  
  
“We can write ravens to the Hornwoods and Manderlys. To reach them we would have to pass Bolton or Umber land. We cannot risk being detected. We go to the Bear Island first and then to Deepwood Motte. House Mormont and Glover were always loyal and we could visit them in one tour.”  
  
“Aye, but first we have to go to the other wildling tribes”, Tormund said.  
  
Jon nodded, before turning to Sandor.  
  
“Is there something you need Clegane?”, he asked.  
  
“Actually yes. Do you have a maester?”, Sandor asked in his rough voice.  
  
“Maester Aemon died short time ago unfortunately. Is there something you need?”  
  
“Yes, my leg doesn’t get along with the cold to good. I hoped I could use some of his herbs.” Not a complete lie. His leg sometimes gave him trouble, but he had other things in mind.  
  
“Yes of course. The maester’s chamber is in the tower on the other site of the courtyard. And Clegane.”  
  
Sandor turned to Jon again.  
  
“We ride next morning.”  
  
Sandor nodded and left the hall.

  
  


Sandor crossed the courtyard, passed by some sparing men and entered the tower of the late maester. He knew exactly what herbs he was looking for, but he wasn’t sure if he really would find them here. He looked through the glasses filled with all kinds of herbs and tinctures. When Sandor finally found what he was looking for her put them all in a small bag and he left the tower.  
  
He made his way towards Sansa´s room, but then he saw Brienne preparing her horse. He walked over to her. She seemed tensed. Over the last days he and Brienne had warmed up to another.  
  
“Brienne where are you going?”, he roughly asked her.  
  
“Lady Sansa ordered me to Riverrun to deal with her great-uncle. I am taking Pod with me”, Brienne said without taking her eyes of her horse.  
  
“Do you know why she lied during the meeting?”  
  
Brienne turned to him surprised.  
  
“Don’t look so surprised “, Sandor said with a chuckle,” I know her longer than most people here. I know the small signs that give her lie away.”  
  
“You should ask her about it. I think she makes a mistake.”  
  
Podrick came over with his horse.  
  
“Won’t you depart with us tomorrow?”, Sandor asked her surprised.  
  
“No, I better ride now. It’s a long way to Riverrun and I don’t want that red bearded wildling to know. He always looks at me in strange ways.”  
  
“He is a harmless fellow. He probably had looked for someone like you on the other side of the Wall his whole life”, Sandor said in an amused tone.  
  
Brienne rolled her eyes and handed Pod her reins. She walked over to Sandor.  
  
“Goodbye Clegane, take good care of Lady Sansa.”  
  
“Goodbye Brienne. You know I always will.”  
  
She mounted her horse and rode off.


	25. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> triple update today, just because mademoiselle_k basicly asked so nice for it yesterday ;D
> 
> and thanks and kudos to @hardlyfatal for being the beta for the next 30 chapters so you can all enjoy them without typos and grammar errors :D

After Brienne had left her room, Sansa had returned to her sewing. She had just made the last stitch on her dress when someone knocked on the door.  
  
“Yes?”  
  
“It’s me, little bird. Can I come in?”  
  
“Of course, come in Sandor.”  
  
Sandor entered the room and sat down own the chair at the table. Sansa remained on her bed.  
  
“Brienne just rode off with Pod," Sandor told her.  
  
“Yes, I sent her to Riverlands. We need every man we can get.”  
  
Silence filled the room, just interrupted by the sound of the needle and thread.  
  
“Why did you lie, earlier? What are you hiding, Sansa?" he asked in a soft tone.  
  
Sansa was taken aback.  
  
“How…”  
  
“Didn’t I once tell you a Hound can smell a lie?”  
  
Sandor chuckled.  
  
“Do you think the others…”  
  
“No. You are lying well, way better than in King’s Landing, but I know the small gestures you make that still give you away.”  
  
Sansa put away her needle.  
  
“I couldn’t tell Jon. Please don’t be mad at me.”  
  
“I want to understand, Sansa. Has it something to do with where you and Brienne rode this morning?”  
  
Sansa sighed.  
  
“I wanted to tell you, Sandor, but I didn’t know how.”  
  
“Tell me now, Sansa.”  
  
“I met with Petyr this morning in a village, a few miles south of here. He has the knights of the Vale brought north to my aid. They are waiting in Moat Cailin. I told him I never wanted to see him again, but I needed to know if he knew about Ramsay.”  
  
“And did he know?" Sandor growled in a low voice.  
  
“I don’t know. He claims he didn’t know and seemed pained by the details I gave him. He was the one who told me about my great-uncle.”  
  
“That still doesn’t explain why you lied to Jon about how you got that information.”  
  
“Sandor, my brother is honorable. He is like Father. If he had heard that I got that information on the Tully’s from the man who handed me over to the Boltons, he would have refused it, and he would have done the same with the knights of the Vale. I don’t want to be in debt to Petyr, that’s the reason why I refused his help. It doesn’t matter if he knew about Ramsay or not. He promised to protect me and he failed, and I don’t want to be part of his plans anymore.”  
  
Sandor stood up and walked over to her and knelt before her. She shyly looked at him through her eyelashes.  
  
“Yes, your brother is that honorable. I understand why you keep it from him, but please don’t lie to me. You have every right to demand if Baelish knew what he did.”  
  
“So you are not mad at me?" she asked quietly.  
  
“No, little bird, I am not mad at you. I only want to help you.”  
  
Sansa nodded.  
  
“Good. What are you working on, little bird?" Sandor said, and looked at the piles of fabrics and furs next to her bed.  
  
Sansa beamed at him.  
  
“I made a new dress for myself. I will show it to you tomorrow. And now I am working on some things that are surprises.”  
  
“Alright, then, I won’t distract you anymore, but there is one last thing.”  
  
Sandor gave her a small bag with herbs.  
  
“What is that?”  
  
“Moontea.”  
  
Sansa's eyes widened in shock. The last weeks had been so stressful she had completely forgotten to get moontea. During her time in Winterfell, she had always feared the day she would find out that she was with child. Her last moonblood had ended the day before the wedding, and now she was trying to count the days her since it had ended.  
  
“Don’t worry, little bird. You can still use it, even if your moonblood is late.”  
  
“How do you know so much about these things?" Sansa asked him.  
  
With everybody else, Sansa would feel uncomfortable to talk about these private things, but with Sandor the things are different. After all, Sandor had seen her pathetic attempt to hide her first flowering first-hand back in King’s Landing.  
  
“Cersei always sent me to Pycelle to get her moontea. She didn’t want to raise questions, by going herself, and she knew nobody would question me.”  
  
“Can you show me how to make it? I have never… you know…”  
  
“Of course, it's pretty simple. First, we need to heat some water.”  
  
Sandor took a pitcher of water that stood on a stand next to Sansa’s bed and filled it in the kettle that hung at the wall next to the fireplace. The water started to boil after a short time over the fire. He took some of the herbs and put them into her cup and brewed it with the hot water.  
  
“This is the right amount of tea. Cersei always used honey to cover the bitter taste. You let the tea brew for some minutes before you can drink it. A few hours after drinking, you will feel its effect.”  
  
“Alright. Thank you, Sandor. I couldn’t bear the thought of bringing Ramsay’s child into this world.”  
  
Sandor nodded and turned to leave.  
  
“I will leave you to your sewing, then. I´ll be back later to guard your door, little bird.”  
  
Sansa smiled at him and nodded.  
  
Sandor left the room and Sansa returned to her sewing. Before she took up her needle, Sansa took a deep sip of the tea.  
  
It tasted bitter, but not as bitter as the thought of bearing Ramsay’s child.

  



	26. Sandor

Later that night, Sandor went to the kitchen to find something to eat. Most of Castle Black was asleep. Soon he would return to guard Sansa’s door. Right now, she was alone with her brother’s direwolf.  
  
When Sandor entered the kitchen, he saw that he wasn’t alone. That red-bearded wilding, Tormund, sat next to the hearth where several things roasted over the fire.  
  
“Hungry?" the wildling asked him.  
  
“Starved.”  
  
Sandor sat down next to him.  
  
“We have hare, chicken, and lamb.”  
  
Tormund tested with his finger if they were finished and tore the chicken before handing Sandor half of it. Sandor nodded thankfully and both men ate in silence.  
  
“Have you seen that blond warrior woman? I am looking for her since the meeting this afternoon, but I can't find her.”  
  
“She rode south. She received a task from her lady.”  
  
Tormund looked sadly at the ground.  
  
“Why are you asking?" Sandor asked in slightly amused tone.  
  
Tormund chuckled.  
  
“I have never seen a woman like her before. I always expected all the women south of the wall to be like Jon Snow's sister. Does she have a man?”  
  
Sandor laughed.  
  
“She is known as the Maid of Tarth through large parts of the seven kingdoms, so I would say no.”  
  
Sandor stuffed the rest of the chicken in his mouth before taking one of the hares off the fire.  
  
“Do you think I have a chance with her?" Tormund asked, biting into a piece of lamb. The fat ran over his chin into his beard.  
  
“A start would be to not look at her like she is a delicious lamb chop you want to ravage. That would maybe improve her opinion of you, so she wouldn’t ride off without you telling you.”  
  
Both men laughed.  
  
“So you are telling me there is a chance with her?" Tormund said, grinning, amused.  
  
Both sat there for a while in silence, listening to the cracking of the fire and hissing of fat dripping on it.  
  
“Do you think we have a chance against the Boltons?" Tormund suddenly asked.  
  
“Maybe. If the northern houses rally behind the last children of Ned Stark, we could have the numbers to face them.”  
  
Sandor threw a bone into the fire.  
  
“But it doesn’t matter if we have the numbers or not. I will kill that Bolton bastard for what he has done to Sansa.”  
  
“Jon Snow's sister means a great deal to you, doesn’t she?”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
Both men finished their meal and Sandor took one of the hares for Jon’s direwolf before he returned to Sansa’s room.


	27. Sandor

Today they would start their campaign to retake the north. Sansa had come to his room earlier to give him a new tunic she had made for him. All this time, he had been wearing the same tunic since he left the Riverlands. It was too thin for these temperatures.  
  
The new one was made of thick, soft black wool. The front was embroidered with three direwolves. Sandor pulled it over his head and it fit perfectly.  
  
While Sansa dressed herself, Sandor went to the forge to get his new sword. When he crossed the courtyard, he could see that red woman already sat on her horse, while the other men still prepared their horses.  
  
Sandor examined the work of the smith, while Sansa walked over to her brother and gave him a cloak she had obviously been working on the past few days.  
  
His new sword was longer than the one he had gotten from Beric. It was long enough to be either used one-handed or two-handed. Sandor tested the balance and nodded, satisfied.  
  
Sandor fastened his sword when Sansa walked over to him and proudly presented her new dress to him.  
  
“Do you like it?” she said, smiling.  
  
Sandor was stunned by it. It was made of black fabric with long sleeves. The dress accentuated her womanly form. An elaborate direwolf was embroidered on the front. Sansa had added a wolf pelt to her cloak. Sandor didn’t know what to say. She looked like the personified North.  
  
“It’s beautiful, little bird. I like the wolf bit.” His mouth was suddenly dry like the Dornish desert.  
  
Sansa laughed.  
  
“Jon said the same,” she said, smiling. Sandor could see that a light blush reddened her cheeks.  
  
“What about your brother’s direwolf? Will he come with us?”  
  
“Jon wants to take him to the camp, but he thinks it's better to leave him behind, when we visit the houses. He thinks it could scare them off.”  
  
“We should take him with us when we travel to the houses. Remind them that the wolves aren’t gone yet and a bit of fear might bring them to your side.”  
  
Sansa nodded.  
  
“Yes, you are right, and it shows the houses that we are no pretenders.”  
  
Sandor had just begun to walk to his horse when Sansa grabbed his hand.  
  
“Sandor, I have something else for you.”  
  
She led him to her horse and grabbed a fur-hemmed cloak out of her saddle bag.  
  
“I originally wanted to give you this later, before we headed to Bear Island. The cloak is similar to the one I made for Jon. Our father used to wear a cloak like that.”  
  
Sandor was speechless. No one had ever made something for him.  
  
“Thank you, little bird,” Sandor somehow managed to stammer.  
  
“You’re welcome,” she said with a soft smile before mounting her horse.  
  
Sandor walked to his horse and again missed his ill-tempered black stallion. After he mounted, he saw Jon give some last orders to the man everybody kept calling Dolorous Edd.  
  
After Sansa's brother had mounted his horse, they rode through the gates and started their journey.


	28. Sansa

The wildlings were easily convinced by Jon and Tormund to fight for their cause. After all, they were only alive because of Jon.  
  
On the same day, they continued their travel to Bear Island. It took them nearly a week riding to reach the coast and one day on a ship to reach the island.  
  
The pain caused by the cramps of her moonblood didn’t make the travel on horse pleasant for Sansa. Still, Sansa was glad that Sandor had brought her moontea. Sansa gladly accepted being unconfortable for a few days if that meant she could be finally sure not to be carrying Ramsay's child. During the day, they stopped as often as necessary and in the evening when they made camp for the night, Sandor always looked after her. 

On the day they finally reached to Mormont castle, her moonblood had finally ended. When they rode through the gates Sansa remembered how Maegen Mormont had sometimes visited Winterfell.  
  
They were led to the hall where they would meet Lady Mormont. Sansa had no idea what to expect from that ten-year-old girl.  
  
They took their places in front of the table where Lady Mormont sat with a maester on her left and her master at arms on her right site. Jon stood on her left with Davos behind him, and Sandor took his place behind her. Ghost stood between Jon and Sansa.  
  
“Lady Mormont," Jon began.  
  
“Welcome to Bear Island.”  
  
Jon gave Sansa a look to say something.  
  
“I remember when you were born, my lady. You were named for my Aunt Lyanna. It was said she was a great beauty. I’m sure you will be, too.”  
  
“I doubt it. My mother wasn’t a great beauty, or any other kind of beauty. She was a great warrior, though. She died fighting for your brother, Robb.”  
  
Well, that didn’t work at all. Maybe Jon would have a better chance.  
  
“I served under your uncle at Castle Black, Lady Lyanna. He was also a great warrior and an honorable man. I was his steward. In fact…" Jon said, but was cut off by Lyanna Mormont.  
  
“I think we’ve had enough small talk. Why are you here?”  
  
That girl reminded Sansa of Arya. While Jon told her of Stannis Baratheon's letter, Sansa couldn’t help but think of Arya and where in the world she might be at the very moment.  
  
“Robb is gone, but House Stark is not. And it needs your support, now more than ever. I’ve come with my sister to ask for House Mormont’s allegiance," Jon finally said.  
  
Lyanna Mormont leaned over to her maester and they exchanged whispers. Jon shot her uncertain looks. This wasn’t going as smoothly as expected. Lyanna turned back to them.  
  
“As far as I understand, you’re a Snow, and Lady Sansa is a Bolton. Or is she a Lannister? I’ve heard conflicting reports.”  
  
Sansa tensed.  
  
“I did what I had to do to survive, my lady. But I am a Stark. I will always be a Stark," Sansa said, trying to stay calm.  
  
“If you say so,” Lady Mormont said in an arrogant tone.  
  
Sansa felt her anger rise. How can she dare to doubt her being a Stark. Sansa felt a strong hand on her shoulder and she felt the tension leave her body.  
  
“In any case, you don’t just want my allegiance. You want my fighting men," she continued.  
  
“Of course we are here for your fighting men. We are not here for your courtesies," Sansa thought.  
  
“Ramsay Bolton cannot be allowed to keep Winterfell, my lady. It is our duty to stop him. Even more so because he holds our brother Rickon Stark as prisoner. What you have to understand, my lady, is that…" Jon tried, but he was interrupted again.  
  
“What I understand is that I’m responsible for Bear Island and all who live here. So why should I sacrifice one more Mormont life for someone else’s war?”  
  
Sansa and Jon exchanged desperate looks. What else could they say?  
  
“Because if you don’t, you will be dead or worse soon enough.”  
  
It was Sandor’s rough voice that filled the hall.  
  
“I don’t know you, Ser…?”  
  
Sandor chuckled.  
  
“I am no Ser my lady. I am Sandor Clegane, but you more likely heard of me as the Hound.”  
  
Lyanna turned to her maester.  
  
“You don’t need to ask your maester. I was a Lannister man for most of my life and shield of that cunt Joffrey. Now I serve Lady Sansa and her brother. And I tell you as Stark loyalist, you won't live long with the Boltons in power. When I traveled north, I heard that Ramsay Bolton flayed Lord Cerwyn for not paying his taxes. What do you think will he do to you if he hears that you only follow the Starks? Lady Sansa could tell you first-hand what he likes to do to little girls and women, especially ones that support the Stark name, but for the sake of your ability to sleep well, I’ll spare you the details.”  
  
Lady Mormont seemed to be taken aback by Sandor’s statement. She eyed Sansa nervously.  
  
“And my lady... if the North isn’t united, if we aren’t prepared when the real war starts..." Davos said from behind Jon.  
  
“Go on, Ser…?”  
  
“Davos, my lady, of House Seaworth. Your uncle, Lord Commander Mormont, made that man his steward. He chose Jon to be his successor because he knew he had the courage to do what was right, even if it meant giving his life. Because Jeor Mormont and Jon Snow both understood that the real war isn’t between a few squabbling houses. It’s between the living and the dead. And make no mistake, my lady, the dead are coming.”  
  
Jon had told Sansa of the things he had seen behind the wall, and how the Night's King managed to bring back the dead.  
  
Lyanna turned to Jon.  
  
“Is it true?”  
  
Jon nodded.  
  
“Your uncle fought them at the Fist of the First Men. I fought them at Hardhome. We both lost.”  
  
“As long as the Boltons hold Winterfell, the North is divided. And a divided North won’t stand a chance against the things that lie behind the Wall. If you want to protect your people, you best protect them if you help us free the North of the Boltons.”  
  
The maester and the master of arms leaned over to Lyanna Mormont to tell her something, but she silenced them with a wave of her hand.  
  
“House Mormont has kept faith with House Stark for a thousand years. We will not break faith today.”  
  
Sansa could hear Jon breath out in relief.  
  
“Thank you, my lady. How many men can you bring to our cause?”  
  
Lyanna exchanged whispers with her master at arms. Sansa turned to Sandor and gave him a short nod, thanking him for speaking up. Lyanna turned back to them.  
  
“Sixty-two.”  
  
Sansa tried her best to keep her disappointment off her face.  
  
“Sixty-two?" Jon asked, unbelieving.  
  
“We are not a large house, but we’re a proud one. And every man from Bear Island fights with the strength of ten mainlanders.”  
  
Sandor chuckled.  
  
“If they are as furious as you, my lady, we won't even need that direwolf.”  
  
Lady Mormont smiled and nodded and the atmosphere lightened up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next PoV: Jon


	29. Jon

They left Bear Island as soon as Lady Mormont had sworn to fight at their side. Jon knew that he and Sansa had failed to convince Lady Mormont. He was glad that Clegane and Ser Davos had spoken up.  
  
Jon had no idea how close Sansa and Clegane were, but it was obvious that she trusted him.  
  
Jon barely remembered Clegane when King Robert had visited Winterfell. He only remembered him as a rough, ill-tempered man that never left the side of Joffrey. Now he seemed to be changed. As was Sansa.  
  
The Sansa he now saw was so different from the one he had last seen, when she traveled south with Father and Arya, while he rode to the Wall with uncle Benjen. Sansa had always been the perfect lady as long as he remembered. She had always enjoyed playing knights and maidens with him and Robb. Now she could not be farther away from that girl.  
  
Sansa hadn’t told him anything about what had been done to her. Sansa had only told him that Clegane had been the only person in King's Landing who had tried to help her without ulterior motives. She never talked about her time in Winterfell, but he could hear her awake, screaming, nearly every night.  
  
As children, Jon and Sansa had never been as close as he was with Arya, but it made him feel he’d failed her as a brother. No brother should hear her sister scream that way without knowing how to help her. Clegane was the one to calm her down. He reminded himself to thank Clegane for that.

Deepwood Motte was right before them, its mailed fist flying over the towers.  
  
Jon could see that a battle had taken place here a short time ago. Jon still saw trenches and the scraps of siege machines.  
  
When they reached the gates, Jon saw that it had been rebuilt crudely.  
  
“Who wants entrance to the castle?” a guard yelled through the gate.  
  
“Jon Snow and Sansa Stark. We come to speak to Lord Glover.”  
  
The guard seemed to speak to someone.  
  
“Open the gates.”  
  
They rode into the castle and were led to the courtyard in front of the great hall. The whole castle showed signs of battle.  
  
Jon had expected to meet Lord Glover in the great hall, but instead, he already awaited them in front of the hall.  
  
Jon remembered Lord Glover. He had often traveled to Winterfell with his brother who had been lord before him.  
  
“Lord Glover,” Jon began. “We came here to ask your help to retake Winterfell and free the North of Bolton rule, to avenge the Red Wedding and the death of King Robb.”  
  
“The answer is no.”  
  
“Lord Glover, if you could just hear us out…”  
  
“I’ve heard enough. We’ve only just taken back this castle from the Ironborn. The Boltons helped us do it. Now you want me to fight against them? I could be skinned for even talking to you.”  
  
“The Boltons are traitors. Roose Bolton…”  
  
Lord Glover interrupted him.  
  
“Have other northern houses pledged to fight for you?”  
  
“House Mormont,” Jon said.  
  
“And?”  
  
“We have sent ravens to the Hornwoods, Flints, Tallharts and Manderlys…”  
  
“I don’t care about ravens. You’re asking me to join your army. Who is fighting in this army?” he asked firmly.  
  
Jon took a deep breath.  
  
“The bulk of the force is made up of wildlings.”  
  
Lord Glover’s face fell.  
  
“Then the rumors are true. I didn’t dare believe them. I received you out of respect for your father and your kingly brother. Now I would like you to leave. House Glover will not abandon its ancestral home to fight alongside wildlings.”  
  
He turned and walked back to his hall.  
  
“Lord Glover.”  
  
Lord Glover didn’t even bother to turn.  
  
“There’s nothing else to say.”

  


“I would remind you that House Glover is pledged to House Stark. Sworn to answer when called upon,” Sansa said with a firm voice. Jon looked at her surprised. He had never heard her speak in that way. 

  


Lord Glover stopped and turned on his heels and walked to Sansa. She didn’t flinch at the man fast approaching her. Sansa held her head high. Jon saw that Clegane tensed up at the sight of Lord Glover approaching Sansa. Jon felt if Lord Glover would make one wrong move, it could be his last.  
  
“Yes, my family served House Stark for centuries. We wept when we heard of your father’s death. When my brother was lord of this castle, he answered Robb’s call and hailed him King in the North.”  
  
He leaned even closer to Sansa's face.  
  
“And where was King Robb when the Ironborn attacked this castle? When they threw my wife and children in prison and brutalized and killed our subjects? Taking up with a foreign whore. Getting himself and those who followed him killed.”  
  
Lord Glover pointed to Clegane.  
  
“My brother was butchered by the brother of this monster during the battle of Duskendale alongside many good Northmen, and now I see him by your side. I served House Stark once, but House Stark is dead.”  
  
With that, he turned and walked back to his hall.


	30. Sandor

The atmosphere was tense during the whole journey back to camp. They came back with only sixty-two men.  
  
When they finally reached the first line of guards, they heard that in the meantime, a few hundred new men had arrived.  
  
Sandor rode next to Sansa through the camp. Davos spoke to Jon.  
  
“Two thousand wildings, two hundred Hornwoods, fifty Flints, about a hundred-forty Mazins…”  
  
“Sixty-two Mormonts,” Sansa said in a teasing tone.  
  
“It’s not what we had hoped for. But we still have a chance if we are careful and smart,” Davos said.  
  
Sandor doubted that they really had a chance, even if they were smart. Numbers, after all, decided the outcome of a battle most of the time.  
  
Davos hurried over to some men who had gotten into a fight.  
  
Sansa continued to walk with her brother.  
  
“So he is your most trusted advisor now?” she asked.  
  
Sansa had told Sandor, one evening a few days ago, that she thought her brother still saw her as stupid little girl.  
  
“Ser Davos is the reason I’m standing here talking to you, and he served Stannis for years.”  
  
“Stannis, who lost the Blackwater, who murdered his own brother, who doesn’t have a head.”  
  
Her brother kept walking for a few paces before he stopped and turned around.  
  
“It’s not enough, Jon. We need more men,” Sansa said.  
  
“There is no time.”  
  
“If we go down to Castle Cerwyn, I know that Lord…”, Sansa said in a demanding tone.  
  
Jon moved closer to her.  
  
“We fight with the army we have,” he nearly yelled at her.  
  
Jon Snow stalked off to Davos, who hadn’t managed to separate the fighting men.  
  
Sansa stood there for a moment. She seemed a bit lost. Sandor walked over to her and placed a hand on her shoulder.  
  
“Are you alright, little bird?”  
  
She turned to him.  
  
“Yes, sorry. I was lost in thought.”  
  
She looked over to her brother, who had finally managed to separate the men.  
  
“I need to talk to you. Can you come with me to my tent?”  
  
Sandor nodded and they walked through the camp to Sansa’s tent.  
  
Sansa sat down on her field bed, and Sandor sat down on a stool.  
  
“Do you think we have a chance, Sandor?”, Sansa asked him.  
  
“It’s not looking good for us, little bird. Soldiers win wars and we don’t have enough.”  
  
“What if we did have enough?”  
  
“What are you thinking of, Sansa?”  
  
“I could write to Lord Baelish, to ask for his support with the knights of the Vale, but it will come at a price. I am afraid what he might demand for it.”  
  
“Do you think he will help you at all, after sending him away?”  
  
“I don’t know, but what do we have to lose? If he doesn’t come, we are still in the same situation. If he comes, it might save us all.”  
  
Sandor didn’t trust Littlefinger as far as he could piss, and he also knew that Baelish never did anything without getting something out of it.  
  
“Sansa, it’s your decision, but we need more men to win. It’s more important to defeat the Boltons. Littlefinger can never repay the debt he has to you, and should we really win, you can still refuse him.”  
  
“Can I really?”  
  
“You have leverage over him from what you told me, and there are other things about him you don’t know. Trust me. He can’t force you to do anything.”  
  
Sansa seemed lightened by that.  
  
“Do you think I should tell Jon?”  
  
“We can’t be sure that Baelish will come. If you tell your brother, he might refuse and decides to march into battle sooner. Tell him if you have an answer. Any news from Brienne?”  
  
“Unfortunately not. I’ll write to Baelish, but certainly the other houses will answer our call.”  
  
Sandor nodded. He wished he could share Sansa’s optimism.


	31. Sandor

It was the day before the battle. Sansa´s brother had decided he wanted to meet once before the battle with his opponent. Now they saw a small group of riders appear, coming towards them from Winterfell. The flayed man banners said clearly who came.  
  
Sansa had insisted going with Jon to meet Ramsay. Even Lyanna Mormont was present. Sandor had to admit that the girl had courage. She reminded him in many ways of Sansa’s sister.  
  
Sandor was one of the men to wear the Stark banner. Sandor pulled his hood up. The only reason Sandor wanted to come was to have a good look at Ramsay, so he knew the face of the man he would slaughter for the little bird.  
  
“You don’t have to be here," Sansa's brother said.  
  
“Yes, I do," she simply said. Sandor had never been prouder of Sansa.  
  
The rider stopped a few paces away. Sandor had never bothered about the sigils of the houses, but even he knew the sigils of House Umber and Karstark. The third man had to be Ramsay Bolton.  
  
“My beloved wife. I’ve missed you terribly.” Sandor felt his mouth twitch and his anger rise at these words. Sansa didn’t answer, but he could see her tense a bit in her saddle. Sandor’s hand instinctively went to the hilt of his sword.  
  
“Thank you for returning Lady Bolton safely. Now, dismount and kneel before me, surrender your army and proclaim me the true Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North. I will pardon you for deserting the Night’s Watch. I will pardon these treasonous lords for betraying my house. Come, bastard, you don’t have the men, you don’t have the horses, and you don’t have Winterfell. Why lead those pour souls into slaughter? There’s no need for a battle. Get off your horse and kneel. I’m a man of mercy.”  
  
“Mercy," Sandor thought angrily.  
  
“You’re right. There’s no need for a battle. Thousands of men don’t need to die. Only one of us. Let’s end this the old way. You against me.”  
  
Sansa's brother must be an idiot if he thought Ramsay would agree to that.  
  
Ramsay laughed.  
  
“I keep hearing stories about you, bastard. The way people in the North talk about you before I flay them. You’re the greatest swordsman who ever walked. Maybe you are that good. Maybe not. I don’t know if I’d beat you. But I know that my army will beat yours. I have six thousand men. You have, what, half that? Not even?”  
  
“Aye, you have the numbers. Will your men want to fight for you when they hear you wouldn’t fight for them?," Jon said in an amused tone. Sandor had no idea what he was trying to achieve with that.  
  
Ramsay laughed again.  
  
“He’s good. Very good. Tell me, will you let your little brother die because you’re too proud to surrender?”  
  
Sansa seemed to have read Sandor’s thoughts.  
  
“How do we know you have him?" she asked.  
  
Lord Umber pulled something out of his saddlebag and threw it on the ground before them. It was the head of a direwolf.  
  
“Now, if you want to save…," Ramsay began again.  
  
“You’re going to die tomorrow, Lord Bolton. Sleep well," Sansa interrupted him in an icy tone. She turned her horse around and rode off. Sandor had to restrain himself from the urge to ride with her.  
  
Ramsay seemed to the taken aback by her, but recovered fast enough.  
  
“She’s a fine woman, your sister. I look forward to having her back in my bed. And you’re all fine-looking men. My dogs are desperate to meet you. I haven’t fed them for seven days. They’re ravenous. I wonder which parts they’ll try first. Your eyes? Your balls? We’ll find out soon enough, but first you will watch what I'll do to your sister, bastard. In the morning, then, bastard.” With that he turned their horses and rode off.  
  
“You will never touch her again, not as long as I breathe," Sandor thought before riding off.


	32. Sansa

After the war council had left the tent, Sansa got into an argument with Jon about his knowledge of Ramsay. It hurt Sansa that Jon had never assumed that she could help him. After all, Jon still saw her as naïve young girl. He had made his battle plan based on a meeting that hadn’t lasted ten minutes.  
  
Sansa had tried to explain to him how Ramsay's mind worked and that they would never get Rickon back alive. She had desperately told him that Ramsay was laying a trap for him. But Sansa’s warnings fell on deaf ears.  
  
Sansa hadn’t heard anything of Baelish, and with Jon going this naïve into the battle, they would all be dead before next evening.  
  
“We don’t have enough men!" Sansa pleaded in a desperate tone.  
  
“No, it’s not enough! It’s what we have! Battles have been won against greater odds," he nearly yelled back at her.  
  
Sansa had heard enough. Jon wouldn’t listen to any of her arguments.  
  
“If Ramsay wins, I’m not going back there alive. Do you understand me?”  
  
Sansa meant what she said. Never again she would she would be at Ramsay’s mercy.  
  
Jon, on the other hand, seemed shocked by her statement.  
  
“I won’t ever let him touch you again. I’ll protect you, I promise.”  
  
“No, you can't," Sansa said, leaving the tent.  
  
“Sansa, wait," Jon called.  
  
Sansa turned to him.  
  
“I won't take Ghost to the battlefield. He will stay behind with you. He will keep you safe.”  
  
Sansa smiled sadly at him. If Ramsay comes for her, only death would protect her.  
  
“If you say so. Sleep well, Jon.”  
  
With that, she turned and walked back to her tent.


	33. Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A short one.

Sandor and Sansa ate in silence in her tent. She seemed to be far away with her thoughts.  
  
“What are you thinking of, little bird," Sandor softly asked.  
  
“The best way to kill myself," she dryly answered.  
  
Sandor nearly choked on his stew.  
  
“What?" he said, coughing.  
  
“We don’t have enough men. Victory is more than unlikely as I see it. My brother sees me as a stupid little girl, and constantly ignores my warnings of Ramsay's ability to lay traps. Should the time come, I don’t plan to be alive when Ramsay or his men find me. So I am thinking about the best way to kill myself.”  
  
It saddened Sandor that she could so easily speak about her own potential suicide. But she had every right to do it, if it meant avoiding capture by the Boltons.  
  
“How have you planned to do it?" Sandor asked carefully.  
  
“I don’t know. By knife, probably.”  
  
Sandor nodded.  
  
“Do you have a dagger or knife?”  
  
Sansa simply showed him the knife she had used to slice and apple with.  
  
Sandor shook his head, and handed her a dagger he had hidden in his boot.  
  
“Here. This is better than your knife.”  
  
He swallowed.  
  
“Should it be necessary to make this step. Either stab it into your heart or right into your throat. Here.” He pointed with a finger on the point where main blood vessel was.  
  
Sansa nodded.  
  
“But, Sansa, please don’t kill yourself before it's sure everything is lost. I couldn’t bear the thought of living in a world without my little bird.” His voice was filled with emotion and he had to swallow several times afterwards.  
  
Sansa nodded and put away the dagger.


	34. Sandor

Sandor needed something to drink. Since his time with Septon Ray, he hadn’t been drunk. The time with the septon had made Sandor realize that his drinking had caused many of his problems.  
  
Sandor had also not forgotten how he went, drunk, to the little bird’s room during the battle of the Blackwater, and what he had done. Like a brute, he had held a knife to her throat and demanded a song she didn’t know how to sing. The song she had sung snapped him into the reality of his doing, and he left her only with a bloody cloak. He had failed her.  
  
Sandor rubbed his face. He didn’t need these dark memories of his past.  
  
“You look like you could use a good drink.”  
  
Tormund walked over to him.  
  
“Davos didn’t want one, he said he always shits instead of drinks before a battle. But you look like someone who needs something.”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
Both men walked to a campfire, where a few other wildlings already sat.  
  
Tormund handed him a skin.  
  
“I hope its wine. If I have to drink that piss the Night’s Watch call ale, I swear I'll kill you.”  
  
Tormund chuckled.  
  
“No, it's not the grape water you wish for. It's what we drink, north of the wall. Nice sour goat milk.”  
  
Sandor sniffed on it, but drank deeply anyway.  
  
“Better?" Tormund asked.  
  
“Better.”  
  
They passed around the skin for some time, and one wildling after another left for the night until only Sandor and Tormund remained.  
  
“Have you heard anything of the lady knight of your lady?" Tormund asked him.  
  
“Not since we received the letter reporting that she couldn’t convince Sansa’s uncle.”  
  
“Too bad. I would have liked to at least see her once before I die tomorrow.”  
  
Sandor laughed.  
  
“You are really fallen for her, aren’t you?”  
  
“No more than your little bird has fallen for you. Why are you calling her that? I’ve asked myself that for a while. She isn’t so little. She is taller than most men.”  
  
Tormund passed him the skin and Sandor took a gulp.  
  
“When I first met her years ago, she was always chirping the things the people around her wanted to hear. Courtesies and empty phrases. I once told her that she sounds like one of the singing birds from the south. The name somehow stuck. And she hasn’t fallen for me; she trusts me, and I protect her. That’s it.”  
  
Sandor huffed at that.  
  
“If you say so.”  
  
Both men sat in silence for some time, before leaving for their tents to get some sleep before the battle.


	35. Sansa

Sansa hadn't slept much. She was far too nervous to sleep. The camp was in turmoil. Soldiers put their armor on and readied their horses.  
  
Sansa walked over to Jon, who was talking to Davos.  
  
“Jon," Sansa called him.  
  
Jon turned to her and Sansa couldn’t deny that he looked a younger version of their father.  
  
“Good luck, Jon. Please don’t do what Ramsay wants you to do.”  
  
Jon smiled at her.  
  
“No, I won't, I promise.”  
  
He kissed her on the forehead, mounted his horse, and rode off with Davos at his side. Most of the men started to follow him.  
  
Sansa managed to spot Sandor, who was still preparing his horse. Sansa was glad he had not already rode off.  
  
“Sandor.”  
  
He turned to her.  
  
“Little bird. Are you alright? You look tired.”  
  
“I haven’t slept much. But I made you something.”  
  
Sansa handed him a small handkerchief, which she had spent a few hours last night embroidering with three direwolves, one hound, and a red little bird in every corner. He eyed it closely and touched the delicate work.  
  
“For good luck. I know you don’t believe in all these things, but I wanted you to have a part of me with you when you fight. After all, you are risking your life for me.”  
  
“Thank you, little bird.”  
  
He mounted his horse and was about to ride off when Sansa grabbed his wrist.  
  
“Please return to me.”  
  
“I always will, my love.”  
  
He kicked his horse and rode off to catch up with Jon.


	36. Sansa

Sansa waited for hours. She was far too nervous to busy herself with sewing. How could she sew, when her brother and the man who was the closest person she had could die at this very moment? He had called her his love, Sansa remembered, and it made her heart flutter.  
  
Lyanna Mormont had spent some time with her the last few hours, but Sansa wasn’t the best company for her. Arya would have had a great time with her, she thought.  
  
Sansa shrieked when horns and hooves could be heard coming closer. She grabbed the dagger Sandor had given her.  
  
“My Lady," called one of the guards who had stayed behind.  
  
When Sansa left her tent, she saw Petyr with all knights of the Vale.  
  
Petyr dismounted and walked smirking towards her.  
  
“Ahh, sweetling, it's so good to see you…”  
  
Don’t call me that, Sansa thought. She was angry.  
  
“Why didn’t you send a raven to say you were on your way?" she interrupted him.  
  
“I didn’t want the Boltons to intercept the message.”  
  
“It doesn’t matter now. We need to hurry. My brother marched shortly after sunrise.”  
  
A guard brought her horse and Sansa rode with Petyr and the knights to Winterfell.

  


When they finally reached the battlefield, Sansa was shocked for a moment. Piles of dead, with her brother’s men trapped and surrounded by Ramsay’s.  
  
Petyr gave the order to attack, and the knights stormed down the hill and crushed Ramsay's army.  
  
Sansa couldn’t help but smirk when she saw Ramsay turning to flee. Shortly after him ran three men. One was the giant, and another who had to be Jon. He must have seen Ramsay retreat. Many of Jon's men followed shortly after. They wanted to attack Winterfell before Ramsay can organize a defense. Sansa rode after them before she really knew what she was doing.  
  
She had to see Ramsay die.  
  
When she finally passed the gates, she saw the giant, dead and peppered with countless arrows. Many Boltons lay dead in the mud.  
  
When Sansa dismounted, she could see a man beating another over and over again. On the second look, Sansa saw that it was Jon beating up Ramsay.  
  
Jon was splattered with blood and gore from head to toe. Jon only stopped when his gaze fell on her.  
  
For a short moment, she thought that Ramsay was dead, but then she recognized that he was still breathing.  
  
“Good," Sansa thought. “I won't let you die this easily.”


	37. Sandor

Sandor was exhausted. He had killed countless Boltons. He’d even fought that Karstark cunt he had seen yesterday during their meeting with Ramsay. When that cunt had tried to stab Jon from behind, Sandor took off his head before he had the time to lift his sword.  
.  
They had been close to defeat. But the knights of the Vale had made the difference. Sandor immediately spotted the fiery hair of Sansa next to someone that could only be Littlefucker.  
  
Sandor saw how Jon, Tormund and the giant ran off to Winterfell followed by a lot of wildlings.  
  
It had been a massacre. Dead and dying men were scattered all over the field.  
  
When Sandor finally reached the courtyard, he saw how two men carried her dead little brother away. Jon followed them.  
  
“Sansa," he softly called.  
  
She immediately turned and ran to him, flying into his arms.  
  
He must have been covered in blood, but Sansa didn’t care.  
  
“Are you alright? You are covered in blood." She eyed him from head to toe.  
  
“I am alright, little bird. Your token brought me luck.”  
  
He pulled the handkerchief out of his sleeve and wiped off some blood from Sansa’s cheek.  
  
“I am so sorry about your brother, Sansa. Jon tried to reach him, but… but…" The words got stuck in his throat.  
  
“But Ramsay used Rickon to lure you into his trap.” Sansa finished and Sandor nodded.  
  
“I am so sorry, Sansa.”  
  
Sandor couldn’t look into her eyes. He felt Sansa's hand on his cheek.  
  
“Sandor, it is not your fault. I know Ramsay well enough. I warned Jon that he would use Rickon against us. Rickon was lost to us the moment Ramsay got him.”  
  
Sandor felt the hate rise in him. Sansa had so little left of her family, and thanks to that bastard, her brother now was dead.  
  
“Where is he?”  
  
Sansa smirked.  
  
“In the kennels. Like the mad dog he is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay next chapter later today


	38. Sansa

Sansa was relieved that Jon and Sandor were alive. Over the last few hours, every sign of the Bolton rule had been removed. Winterfell became her home again with every banner that hung down the wall.  
  
Sansa felt a sting in her heart when she saw little Rickon's dead body. She hadn’t seen him since the day she had left for King's Landing. What pained her the most was the fact that she felt nearly nothing. Sansa had known that Rickon was most likely already dead, and she had prepared to hear of his death. At least he would find peace next to his ancestors down in the crypt.  
  
Now only one person was still alive who stood between her and retaking her home completely. Soon he would be gone. Sansa had spent a lot of time thinking about the way she wanted him to die. She finally had decided, and everything was prepared. She would finally get the revenge she wanted for so long. 

Evening had fallen over the North. The castle was silent, only interrupted by the moaning of wounded men from time to time.  
  
Now Sansa was standing in front of the kennels. Ramsay was chained to a chair. Ramsay's face was battered by Jon’s fists. Only a few steps and iron bars separated her from the man who had caused her more pain and humiliation than she had ever thought possible. The man who had killed her baby brother. The son of the man who stabbed her brother in the heart.  
  
Now he was right in front of her. He was at her mercy. This was her moment.  
  
Ramsay slowly came back to his senses. He groaned and coughed. He looked around and his eyes finally focused on her. He grinned, showing all his teeth.  
  
“Ah. Sansa. Hello, Sansa. Is this where I’ll be staying now? No. Our time together is about to come to an end. That’s all right. You can’t kill me. I’m part of you now.”  
  
"That’s where you are wrong",she thought.  
  
“Your words will disappear. Your house will disappear. Your name will disappear. All memory of you will disappear.”  
  
Growls could be heard behind him. Ramsay tried to turn but couldn’t because of his chains.  
  
“My hounds will never harm me," he said in an arrogant voice.  
  
“You haven’t fed them in seven days. You said it yourself," Sansa said in a calm voice.  
  
“They’re loyal beasts.”  
  
“Yes, the _loyalty of hounds_ is legendary.”  
  
Ramsay smirked at her, thinking he was back in her head again.  
  
“But I have a _loyal Hound_ myself," Sansa said in a calm cold voice with a smirk.  
  
Ramsay frowned.  
  
Sandor stepped out of the shadows.  
  
Ramsay's eyes widened in surprise and fear.  
  
“Good," Sansa thought.  
  
“You?" Ramsay asked in a disbelieving tone.  
  
Sandor leaned down to him and said in a low rough voice.  
  
“Aye, me. And I know what you did, and what you planned to do to her. I made a promise to her. I hope you enjoy games, little man. I certainly will enjoy them.”  
  
That night, it was Ramsay's screams that could be heard all over Winterfell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this chapter was the initial idea for the story. The spark of inspiration lightened immedialty after the episode ended.


	39. Sandor

The sun had risen over the North, even if it was hidden behind heavy clouds. Sandor was cleaning himself in one of the hot springs, and allowed himself to close his eyes for a while and enjoy the heat. It had been a long night for him.  
  
Sansa had wanted Ramsay to suffer. To feel like she had felt. The feeling of being at the mercy of someone else.  
  
Sandor was only too happy to help Sansa. He had promised to slaughter that bastard for her, and he had made him suffer.  
  
Sandor knew many ways to delay the death of a man during torture, but he wasn’t so sure if he could do it. Sandor once had told Sansa that killing was the sweetest thing, but since knowing Septon Ray, it was now just a deed he had to do occasionally.  
  
Sandor’s doubts were dispelled when he’d seen Ramsay a few steps away in the kennels. The Hound had reawakened, if only for that night.  
  
Sandor had seen the fear in Ramsay's eyes. In that moment, Sandor remembered everything Sansa had told him, every detail of what Ramsay had done to her. He remembered how Ramsay had smirked when he threatened to rape Sansa in front of Jon.  
  
Sandor had taken his time with Ramsay. Sandor made sure all of Winterfell heard his screams, like they had heard Sansa’s.  
  
Once during that night, Ramsay became unconscious, but Sandor managed to rouse him by emptying a bucket of water on his head. Sandor didn’t want him to miss the part where he would flay, geld and gut him.  
  
It was near sunrise when Ramsay made his last sounds. Sandor was a bit disappointed. He would do it night after night and it would still not be enough to avenge Sansa. Sandor nearly considered asking the red witch if it were possible to bring him back, just to slay him again.  
  
Sandor fed the leftovers of him to his hounds. Nobody would ever find anything of him.  
  
He hadn’t seen Sansa this morning. He finished his bath and went to look for her.


	40. Sansa

The last time she had been in the crypts, Sansa had stood in front of their aunt's grave. Now she stood in front of Rickon’s. Her poor little brother, in his cold stone sarcophagus. The stonemason had just finished his statue. Jon and Sansa had decided that a statue of Shaggydog should stand beside him, his loyal companion in the darkness of eternity. He had worked through the whole night to finish it.  
  
“I thought I might find you here," Jon said to her.  
  
Sansa smiled sadly at him.  
  
“Do you remember when you dressed up as Ghost and hid in here, and Robb led us down here so you could scare us?" Sansa asked.  
  
Jon laughed lightly.  
  
“Yes, if I remember correctly, you ran screaming back to the stairs while Arya gave me a kick to my shin.”  
  
Sansa laughed and looked back to the grave.  
  
“I barely remember him. I last saw him when I left for King's Landing. He was clinging to Mother's skirts, unsure what to think of my departure.”  
  
“Yes. That was also the last time I saw him.” Jon looked sadly at her.  
  
“I’m having the lord’s chamber prepared for you.”  
  
That surprised Sansa.  
  
“Mother and Father’s room? You should take it.”  
  
Jon smiled.  
  
“I’m not a Stark.”  
  
“You are to me, you really are.”  
  
“You’re the Lady of Winterfell. I once told Stannis that you are, and you deserve it.”  
  
Sansa felt her heart flutter. She had never expected to become Lady of Winterfell. Not with three brothers.  
  
“We’re standing here because of you. The battle was lost until the knights of the Vale rode in. They came because of you. You told me Lord Baelish sold you to the Boltons.”  
  
“He did.”  
  
“Do you trust him?”  
  
Trust? Once I did. And I paid a horrible price.  
  
“Only a fool would trust Littlefinger.” I was that fool once.  
  
Sansa turned to him.  
  
“I should have told you about him, about the knights of the Vale. I’m sorry, but I didn’t know if he would come.”  
  
Jon approached her.  
  
“We need to trust each other. We can’t fight a war amongst ourselves. We have so many enemies now.”  
  
He kissed her on the forehead and started to walk back to the stairs.  
  
“The lords will meet later in the great hall," he said.  
  
“Jon," Sansa called after him and he turned towards her.  
  
“A raven came from the Citadel this morning. A white raven. Winter is here.”  
  
Jon smiled at her in honest.  
  
“Well, Father always promised, didn’t he?”  
  
“Yes, he did," Sansa said smiling.  
  
“I will be in the godswood until the meeting.”  
  
Jon nodded and walked away.


	41. Sandor

Sandor walked down the snow-covered path to the weirwood. Snow crunched under his boots.  
  
Sandor had never liked the gods, but he couldn’t deny that the silence of this wood had something calming.  
  
He spotted Sansa’s red hair under the tree with the red leaves. The pond was frozen and Sansa leaned against the trunk. She had her eyes closed and a calm expression. Her eyes opened when he stepped closer.  
  
She gave a warm smile.  
  
“Hello, Sandor. Come sit with me.” She patted the ground next to her.  
  
Sandor sat down next to her against the weirwood trunk. Sansa leaned against him and put her head on his shoulder.  
  
“My father used to sit here. He always cleaned his sword, Ice, here when he had to execute someone.”  
  
Sandor wasn’t sure if he should place his arm around her shoulder.  
  
“Thank you. For last night, I mean. He is finally gone.”  
  
“Aye. I promised you, didn’t I?”  
  
“Yes, you did, and I am grateful.”  
  
Sansa and Sandor sat there for a while and listened to the silence. Only a few birds could be heard chirping.  
  
“I am the lady of Winterfell,” Sansa murmured.  
  
“Yes, you are, little bird. You finally have your home back.”  
  
Sansa sighed.  
  
“Yes, but I am afraid of my future.”  
  
Sandor frowned.  
  
“Why so, Sansa? Ramsay is very dead, and all houses of the north will pledge their loyalty to your house again later.”  
  
“The lords will proclaim a new king or queen, and they will choose my brother over me.”  
  
“Why should they choose your brother over you? You are the trueborn Stark child.”  
  
Sansa looked sadly up to him.  
  
“I might be, but you heard the lords when we tried to bring them on our side. They only see me as Lady Lannister or Lady Bolton. They probably call me the great whore behind my back for marrying twice into enemy families, while my brother is the one that led them to victory and fought by their site. So why should they choose a woman if they have my brother, who freed the north?”  
  
“If I ever hear a lord, or anyone else, talk about you that way, I'll cut out his fucking tongue. You had a big part in retaking the North. You told me that you had to convince your brother to fight at all,” Sandor growled in a low voice.  
  
Sansa chuckled.  
  
“Jon told me that he was grateful for what I did, with the knights of the Vale, but the rest of the North doesn’t know it, and I fear never will. They will never choose me.”  
  
“Do you want to be queen that bad, or don’t you trust Jon to be a good king?”  
  
Sansa looked at him with a hurt expression. Tears shimmered in her eyes.  
  
“You should know me better than to think I would want to be queen that badly, or that I don’t trust my brother.”  
  
Sandor immediately regretted his words.  
  
“I am sorry, little bird. I didn’t mean it.”  
  
“Sandor, I know you didn’t mean it. It's alright.”  
  
She sighed.  
  
“I am afraid if I don’t become queen that I will lose control over my fate again. That’s it.”  
  
Sandor gave her a questioning look.  
  
“But you are lady of Winterfell, you said so yourself.”  
  
“Yes, I am, but I would be a great lady without a husband. And when Jon is king, he would have the last say in whom I would have to marry, to make sure Winterfell has an heir, or for alliances he needs to create.”  
  
Sandor hadn’t thought about that. He felt his heart cringe at the thought of Sansa marrying again without her having a say in it.  
  
“Maybe that’s my fate. To be handed from one husband to another. Maybe Jon will at least find one that won't hurt me,” Sansa said sadly.  
  
“Sansa, I will never leave you again. No one will ever hurt you again, or I'll kill them.”  
  
Sansa smiled at him.  
  
“I believe you, Sandor, but I will never get what I want.”  
  
“And what is that, little bird?”  
  
Sansa lightly stroked his burned face.  
  
“I will see you later, when they name my brother king. I think I will enjoy the silence for a bit more”.  
  
Sandor stood up and brushed the snow off his clothes.  
  
“Alright, Sansa, I'll see you then.”  
  
When he left the godswood, he saw Littlefinger enter it. Sandor needed to talk to Jon before the proclamation ceremony.


	42. Sansa

Sansa sat under the weirwood and enjoyed her last moments of true freedom. Soon enough, her life would be directed by others again. “At least it’s Jon and he loves me. And Sandor will protect me.” She heard someone coming closer.  
  
“Forgive me, my lady… if you’re at prayer.”  
  
Of course he would show up sooner or later to demand his reward.  
  
“I’m done with all that. I came here every day when I was a girl. I prayed to be somewhere else. Back then I only ever thought about what I wanted, never about what I had.”  
  
Sansa stood up brushed the snow of her skirts and walked over to the visitor.  
  
“I was a stupid girl," Sansa said.  
  
“You were a child," Petyr answered.  
  
That’s no excuse, Sansa thought.  
  
“What do you want?" Sansa asked him. Would he now demand his reward?  
  
“I thought you knew what I wanted," he said with a smirk.  
  
Sansa was slightly annoyed by his games.  
  
“I was wrong.”  
  
He stepped closer to her.  
  
“No, you weren’t. Every time I’m faced with a decision, I close my eyes and see the same picture. Whenever I consider an action, I ask myself, will this action help to make the picture a reality? Pull it out of my mind and into the world? And I only act if the answer is yes. A picture of me on the Iron Throne… and you by my side.”  
  
Sansa once had dreamed of that picture. Sansa as queen with her husband on the Iron Throne. Back then, it was Joffrey. With Petyr, she might have considered it once. But the trust she’d once had in him was gone, and she never wanted to return to King's Landing.  
  
Petyr came closer to her. Sansa knew he planned to kiss her, like he had done in the Eyrie and down in the crypts. He leaned in, but Sansa put her hand on his chest to stop him. She never wanted to feel his lips again.  
  
“It’s a pretty picture. But it is not what I want.”  
  
She walked past him to leave the godswood.  
  
“News of this battle will spread quickly through the Seven Kingdoms. I’ve declared for House Stark for all to hear.”  
  
But only because you thought you could control the North through me.  
  
“You’ve declared for other houses before, Lord Baelish. It’s never stopped you from serving yourself.”  
  
“The past is gone for good. You can sit here mourning its departure, or you can prepare for the future. You, my love, are the future of House Stark. Who should the North rally behind? A trueborn daughter of Ned and Catelyn Stark born here at Winterfell, or a motherless bastard born in the south?”  
  
‘ _My love_ ’, Sansa thought bitterly. Would a man who really loved her have handed her over to the murderer of her family? Sansa remembered how Sandor had called her that before he rode off to battle. For her. To avenge her.  
  
The thought filled Sansa's heart with such warmth that it didn’t matter if Jon became king and she was just the lady of Winterfell. She would always have Sandor behind her to keep her safe.  
  
She left the godswood and didn’t look back.


	43. Sansa

The lords had gathered in the great hall: the lords of the Vale, the leader of the wildlings, and all the great lords of the North. All the lords she had expected to see during her wedding. The lords that hadn’t answered their call to arms.  
  
Now they were all here. Sansa sat at the high table on the place her mother had always sat. Jon sat on their father's chair.  
  
Lord Royce was arguing with Tormund.  
  
“You can’t expect Knights of the Vale to side with wildling invaders.”  
  
“We didn’t invade. We were invited," Tormund answered calmly.  
  
“Not by me.”  
  
Jon sighted and stood up.  
  
“The tree folk, the northerners, and the Knights of the Vale fought bravely, fought together, and we won. My father used to say that we find our true friends on the battlefield," he said.  
  
Lord Cerwyn stood up. Sansa remembered him from his visits with his father when she was a girl.  
  
Jeyne Poole had often joked that the former Lord Cerwyn only visited Winterfell so often to convince Sansa's father to betroth her to his son. The current lord Cerwyn was just a few years older than Sansa. Maybe now she would hear the future husband Jon would choose for her, Sansa thought sadly.  
  
“The Boltons are defeated. The war is over. Winter has come. If the maesters are right, it’ll be the coldest one in a thousand years. We should ride home and wait out the coming storms.”  
  
“The war is not over. And I promise you, friend, the true enemy won’t wait out the storm. He brings the storm," Jon answered him.  
  
Murmur filled the hall. Sansa spotted Petyr leaned against the wall. He looked like he was pouting. Sansa lead her eyes wander of the gathered people. She suddenly saw Sandor standing in the far corner of the hall with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his hood pulled over his head.  
  
Lyanna Mormont stood up and the murmur died.  
  
She turned to Lord Manderly.  
  
“Your son was butchered at the Red Wedding, Lord Manderly. But you refused the call.”  
  
She turned to her right. “You swore allegiance to House Stark, Lord Glover, but in their hour of greatest need, you refused the call.”  
  
Now she faced lord Cerwyn. “And you, Lord Cerwyn, your father was skinned alive by Ramsay Bolton. Still you refused the call.”  
  
Lord Cerwyn looked ashamed. Lady Mormont turned to Jon.  
  
“But House Mormont remembers. The North remembers. We know no king but the King in the North whose name is Stark. I don’t care if he’s a bastard. Ned Stark’s blood runs through his veins. He’s my king from this day until his last day.”  
  
Sansa couldn’t help but smile at this ten year old calling out the cowardice of these men.  
  
Lord Manderly stood up.  
  
“Lady Mormont speaks harshly and truly. My son died for Robb Stark, the Young Wolf.”  
  
Sansa felt a pang of sadness in her heart hearing the name of her brother.  
  
“I didn’t commit my men to your cause because I didn’t want more Manderlys dying for nothing. But I was wrong. Jon Snow avenged the Red Wedding. He is the White Wolf. The King in the North.”  
  
Yes, Jon avenged the Red Wedding, Sansa thought bitterly, I didn’t have any part in it and just sat sewing in my tent until everything was over.  
  
Lord Manderly drew his sword and knelt.  
  
Lord Glover stood up. The man that had said House Stark was dead not two week ago.  
  
“I did not fight beside you on the field, and I will regret that until my dying day. A man can only admit when he was wrong and ask forgiveness.”  
  
“There’s nothing to forgive, my lord," Jon said.  
  
Lord Glover draws his sword.  
  
“The King in the North!”  
  
He knelt and all the other lords started to draw their swords and started yelling.  
  
“The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North! The King in the North!”  
  
Jon stood up and turned to her.  
  
Smile, Sansa thought, you knew it would happen this way and Jon will need to know that you are on his side.  
  
Sansa smiled in honest at Jon. He was her brother and he needed her support. Sansa asked herself if it has been similar when Robb had been named king.  
  
While the yelling continued she let her yes travel over the crowed.  
  
Petyr didn’t seem to be amused. He probably hoped she would argue against her brother. But Sansa wouldn’t turn on her brother.  
  
“My lords," Jon said and raised his hand and the crowd went silent.  
  
Sansa turned to him. Sansa was interested what her brother’s, no her king’s, first order would be.  
  
“I thank you my lords. For the trust you have in me to lead us through this winter.”  
  
Some lords yelled agreement.  
  
“I know you all think I am the one that avenged the Red Wedding and king Robb…”  
  
Jon stopped and looked over the gathered men for a moment and some lords nodded. Jon sighted and turned to Sansa.  
  
“…,but that’s not true. My sister Sansa had the same part in retaking the North as I. She might even have had the bigger part in it. To be honest, she was the one that had to convince me to fight at all. I was tired of fighting, but Sansa convinced me that the Boltons needed to be eliminated. We wouldn’t be sitting here without her doing. The ones who stood beside me know that the victory wasn’t sure until the knights of the Vale came to our aid. We have to thank my sister for that.”  
  
Sansa couldn’t believe her ears. She had never thought her brother would reveal these things. Sansa recognized that some lords stared at her. Sansa had no idea where this was going. Jon continued.  
  
“You named me your king. I am a Snow, but my sister is a Stark, even if some of you have doubted it.”  
  
Sansa tensed slightly at the memory how she had been called Lady Bolton or Lannister.  
  
“If I am the white wolf, my sister is the red she-wolf. The Lady of Winterfell. We will reign the North together.”  
  
Some murmurs started between the lords. Jon lifted his hand again and the murmurs stopped.  
  
“And my first order as your king will be to name my sister Sansa Queen in the North. We will reign as equals side by side, for the best of the North and its people.”  
  
The hall was suddenly so quiet you could hear a needle drop. Sansa didn’t know what to say.  
  
Lord Manderly spoke up.  
  
“Your grace, the North never had a Queen before.”  
  
“Neither did the North ever name a Snow king over a trueborn child," Jon retorted. Lord Manderly sat down.  
  
Sansa felt many eyes on her and it made her uncomfortable to be at the center of attention.  
  
Again it was Lyanna Mormont that stood up.  
  
“My lords, his grace, King Jon, is right. The North has never named a bastard king nor ever had a queen. In the North we always honored the bloodline.”  
  
She pointed towards her and Jon.  
  
“These two, my lords, are the future of the North. And when my king names her queen, she is also my queen from this day until my last day!”  
  
Lady Mormont knelt down.  
  
“The King in the North! The Queen in the North!”  
  
Jon smiled at her and held out his hand to help her to stand.  
  
“The King in the North! The Queen in the North!” Tormund yelled.  
  
One lord after another raised their swords and in the end they all yelled agreement in honest.  
  
Sansa took Jon's hand hesitantly and rose to stand besides him.  
  
Sansa was overwhelmed by the whole situation. An hour ago, she had thought she’d be a pawn again, and now she was queen with her brother as king in equal.  
  
She let her eyes travel over the crowed. Petyr had obviously left the hall. Maybe he couldn’t bear to see her become queen without him at her side.  
  
She saw Jon nod to someone and followed his line of sight; her eyes landed on Sandor. He smiled and nodded back at her.


	44. Sansa

After Jon and Sansa had been named king and queen, a great feast was held. Roose Bolton had luckily taken care that enough supplies had been stocked in Winterfell, so there was enough food and drinks for everyone.  
  
The hall was filled with talk and laugh.  
  
Sansa sat at the high table with her brother. Sandor sat with Davos and Tormund. Sansa wondered where the red woman was; she hadn’t seen her the whole day.  
  
Sansa leaned over to Jon.  
  
“Where is the red woman? I haven’t seen her all day.”  
  
“I sent her away today.” He took a gulp out of his cup and gestured to a servant to bring more ale.  
  
“Why?”  
  
“She burned the daughter of Stannis Baratheon alive. A necessary sacrifice, she called it. Davos was apparently pretty close to that girl.”  
  
“I see.”  
  
Sansa remembered the rumors before the battle of the Blackwater, that Stannis’ red woman sacrificed humans to their god. Sansa hadn’t believed them back then.  
  
Sansa dipped a piece of fresh bread into the sauce of her roasted boar. Tormund was laughing heartily about something Davos had said, while Sandor gestured to a servant for another chicken.  
  
“I think the last time these halls were filled with laughter of joy was the night of the welcoming feast, when King Robert came," Sansa said to Jon.  
  
Jon gave a sad smile.  
  
“Maybe. I wouldn’t know. Your mother didn’t want me in the great hall, so I wouldn’t offend the royal family.”  
  
“I am so sorry, Jon. I forgot. I didn’t meant to…”  
  
“It's alright, Sansa. Robb told me how it was," Jon said, smiling.  
  
Again Sansa felt bad how poorly her mother had treated Jon, and what a bad sister she was, that she hasn’t even realized that Jon hadn’t been present during the feast. She had been way too focused on trying to please Joffrey.  
  
“It's not alright, Jon. You were our brother. I am sorry how bad my mother treated you, and how I followed her lead. It wasn’t right.”  
  
“Sansa, it's in the past. I already forgave you. We were children and it was not just your mother. Father could also have said something, but he never did. He never even told me who my mother was.”  
  
He smiled warmly at her with a hint of curiosity in his eyes.  
  
“Could it be that Arya did something during the feast? I remember that Septa Mordane scolded her for something the next day.” Jon asked in a teasing tone.  
  
Sansa laughed at the memory.  
  
“She flipped pea puree with a spoon into my face. It completely stained my dress I had worked on for weeks to impress the queen. I was so angry with her.”  
  
Jon laughed.  
  
“Do you think she is alright?" Jon asked her.  
  
“I hope so. Sandor told me she could be in Bravos.”  
  
“I hope she is fine where ever she is.”  
  
The sat there for in silence for a while and Sansa eyed the feasting lords.  
  
“Why did you do it?" Sansa asked Jon.  
  
“Do what?" he asked, curious.  
  
“Name me queen. Accept me as equal. You wouldn’t have to do anything of that and nobody would have opposed. I wouldn’t have opposed. You could have been the single hero that liberated the North.”  
  
“I don’t want to be a hero.”  
  
He seemed to look for the right words.  
  
“I am sorry I treated you like a child. Every time I look at you, I only remember the thirteen-year-old girl, with her head full of songs and stories. I barely know the woman you have become. Clegane was right, that you are much smarter than most people think you are.”  
  
Sansa was surprised.  
  
“You spoke to Sandor about me?”  
  
“He came to me earlier today. He spoke to me about what you told him.”  
  
“What did he tell you?”  
  
“He told me of your fears regarding your future. Sansa, I would never marry you off against your will. He didn’t tell me anything of your time in King's Landing or Winterfell. But he told me you would not fight for the crown and simply accept your fate, so we would remain united.”  
  
Jon grabbed her hand.  
  
“What he told me made me see that I need you at my side as queen. I am a good fighter, but you have the political knowledge. You knew that Ramsay planned a trap and would use Rickon to lure me in. You warned me, but I blindly ran into it. Thousands of men died, because of my foolishness.”  
  
Jon gave her hand an encouraging squeeze.  
  
“Will you be by my side? I need my smart sister, to be a good king.”  
  
He smiled warmly at her. She was suddenly overwhelmed by emotions.  
  
“Of course I will, Jon. It means so much to me, to hear this words from you.”  
  
Jon filled their cups. Sansa took a sip. And smiled.  
  
“Much better than the ale in Castle Black," Sansa said.  
  
Jon laughed.

  


Sansa saw how Sandor left the hall.  
  
“Excuse me, Jon. I need some fresh air.”  
  
Jon nodded and turned back to Davos, who had come to their table.  
  
Sansa pushed through the crowed of lords.  
  
When she reached the main door she saw Sandor standing in the doorframe. It had started to snow outside.  
  
“Sandor," Sansa softly called.  
  
He turned.  
  
“Your grace." He slightly bowed his head.  
  
“Don’t call me that," Sansa said, lightly hitting his arm.  
  
“But you are the queen," he said in a teasing tone.  
  
“But only thanks to you," Sansa said, smiling.  
  
Sansa grabbed his arm.  
  
“Come walk with me, Sandor.”  
  
Sandor chuckled.  
  
“Who am I to refuse the order of my queen, little bird.”  
  
Sansa led him to the godswood. They passed some guards and the bowed their heads in respect.  
  
They sat down on a stone bench in the godswood. The snow fell silently.  
  
“Jon told me you talked to him earlier today," Sansa began.  
  
Sandor looked at her.  
  
“I did, Sansa. I thought your brother needed to know how you feel. I am sorry if I crossed a line, but I thought it was for the best.”  
  
“No, Sandor, I am thankful. Again I can’t repay you, what you did for me.”  
  
“You never have to repay me, little bird. If you are happy, I am happy.”  
  
Sansa couldn’t help but smile at him. Every other man would have demanded something in return.  
  
“Sansa, what did Littlefinger want from you? I saw him enter the godswood when I left you.”  
  
Sansa sighted.  
  
“I thought he wanted to demand his reward, but he only wanted to drive a wedge between me and my brother, by telling me he could make sure the North would rally behind me. And he thought he would still be as close as he always thought us. He told me he loved me and that he has in his head a picture of himself on the Iron Throne, with me at his side.”  
  
Sansa felt how Sandor tensed beside her. She took his hand in hers.  
  
“But I rejected him, when he tried to kiss me. Never again I will allow him to kiss or control me.”  
  
“Be careful, Sansa. Littlefinger never took it rejection easily. I still remember how he held the knife to your father’s throat.”  
  
Sansa was shocked by that information. She didn’t know what to say. Sandor looked surprised.  
  
“Oh no, little bird. I thought you knew. Everybody at court knew.”  
  
“No, I didn’t know," Sansa said in a small voice.  
  
“So you are telling me that the man I called father for some time, who I played the dutiful daughter for, the one I saved from death because he saved me from the Lannisters, the one that gave me to those who murdered my family, was the one who betrayed my real father?”  
  
Sansa was trembling with anger.  
  
“I fear so little bird.”  
  
Sandor pulled her into an embrace.  
  
“What will you do, Sansa, now that you know?”  
  
Sansa looked up at him. She felt the hate burn beneath her marble skin.  
  
“I will once and for all free myself of Littlefinger.”


	45. Sandor

Sandor had been shocked that Sansa didn’t know what part Littlefinger had had in her father’s downfall.  
  
After Sandor had revealed that information to her, and she had told him that she would free herself from Baelish once and for all, they had continued to enjoy the silence of the godswood before returning to the feast.  
  
Most of the Lords had already left, but Lord Manderly was still eating and drinking with Tormund and Lord Royce.  
  
Sandor and Sansa chuckled when they saw that Lyanna Mormont was asleep, and her Master at arms carried her to bed. After all, she was still a child, and it was getting late.  
  
Sandor and Sansa shared a cup of wine with Jon before going to bed. Sansa told himbefore she closed her chamber door, that she would need him the next day, when she would speak with Baelish.  
  


The next day, Sansa awaited Baelish down in the crypts in front of the statue of her father.  
  
“Your grace," Baelish greeted her, smirking.  
  
“Lord Baelish," Sansa answered him, frosty.  
  
“Have you thought about yesterday? That picture can still become real, sweetling.”  
  
“Don’t call me that, and no, that picture won't happen.”  
  
Baelish frowned.  
  
“I heard that you betrayed my father. All the time you told me you would help me, you only helped yourself. All the time you made me call you ‘father’, while you had held the dagger to his throat.”  
  
“No, Sansa, I have never betrayed your father. Anybody who says otherwise is a liar.”  
  
Sansa smirked. “I am sure you have betrayed him, because I heard it by the only man who never lied to me.”  
  
Sandor stepped out from behind Sansa, and Baelish looked surprised.  
  
“You? You are the Lannister dog.”  
  
Before Sandor could retort something Sansa spoke up again.  
  
“He is neither a Lannister dog, nor anyone else’s.”  
  
Baelish shrugged. “And what now, Sansa? Will you kill me?" He pointed to the statue of her father. “What would your father say about that?”  
  
“He would probably call it justice, but no, I won't kill you. You will leave the North today.”  
  
“And why exactly should I do that, sweetling?" he asked with an arrogant smirk.  
  
“Because if you don’t, I will reveal to the lords of the Vale what you did to Lord Arryn and his lady. You will leave, and convince the lords to hold their alliance to the North.”  
  
“And what makes you think the lords will believe you?”  
  
Sansa smirked in a cold way.  
  
“Who do you think will the lords believe, Petyr? A small lord from the Fingers who owes everything to the Lannisters, or the daughter of Ned Stark, the ward of their beloved Jon Arryn and the niece of his wife, the cousin of their current lord? You will leave for the Eyrie today. Use Sweetrobin for your scheming, if you have to. I don’t care. But I and the North are no longer part of your great picture.”  
  
“And if I do so, what assurances do I have that you won't betray me?”  
  
“Well, Petyr, you will have to believe my word. Like I did yours, back in Moat Cailin.”  
  
“So it's about that? How often must I say I didn’t know about him and that I am sorry?”  
  
“You can say it as often as you want, but that won't change the fact that you were wrong, and I had to pay for that.”  
  
Sandor felt like laughing. He had never seen Sansa show her fangs. Indeed, she was the red she-wolf.  
  
“So after all I did for you, this is how it ends.”  
  
“After all you did all for me and my family, you deserve to die. Now go, before I change my mind.”  
  
Sandor had to admit that Baelish looked genuinely sad.  
  
“Alright. I will convince the lords and go. I had honest plans for both of us, and I never wanted you to get hurt.”  
  
“I believe you that you had plans, and I also think you didn’t want me to get hurt, but that doesn’t change the past.”  
  
Baelish nodded.  
  
“Your grace.” He turned and left the crypts.  
  
Sandor and Sansa stared after him while he walked away.  
  
“The little bird has talons," Sandor teased.  
  
“Well _your little bird_ isn’t so little, anymore," she smiled and grabbed his arm to lead him out of the crypts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next chapter: Brienne :D


	46. Brienne

Brienne and Podrick rode day and night to return backto the North. When they reached Moat Cailin, they saw that the direwolf was flying over the towers.  
  
Brienne didn’t want to risk that it might be a trap, so they again took the way around the swamp.  
  
Three days away from Winterfell, Brienne had decided to go to an Inn to gather news.  
  
They had just sat down when someone toasted to the king and queen.  
  
“To which king and which queen?" Brienne had carefully asked.  
  
“King Jon and Queen Sansa of course," the crowd had cheered back.  
  
Brienne had no idea how it was possible that Lady Sansa and her brother could be king and queen.  
  
  


When Winterfell came in sight, it was clearly visible that a great battle had taken place only a few weeks ago.  
  
After they entered Winterfell, they were led into the great hall.  
  
Sansa and her brother sat at the high table. Sandor Clegane stood behind her.  
  
“Brienne," Sansa happily said when she spotted her.  
  
“Your grace.”  
  
Jon whispered something in her ear and she kissed him on his cheek and came down from the high table to her.  
  
“Brienne, it's so good to see you. We have so many things to talk about. Come with me, we can talk in my solar.”  
  
Brienne followed her after Podrick had excused himself to look after the horses.  
  
After they reached Sansa’s solar, she embraced Brienne tightly and told her how good it was to have her back.  
  
Sansa offered her a seat at the fireplace and told Brienne what had happened after she departed from Castle Black.  
  
Brienne was happy that everything had worked out in the end for her and her brother.  
  
“Your Grace," Brienne began, “I am sorry to tell you that your great-uncle is dead. He died defending Riverrun.”  
  
Sansa simply nodded. “At least he died fighting. Any other news from the South?”  
  
Brienne indeed had more important news.  
  
“Yes, your grace. Walder Frey was murdered alongside his eldest sons. Nobody knows how, but his sons were baked into a pie, if you believe the rumors.”  
  
“Would be a fitting end for someone who broke the guest right. Anything else?” Sansa dryly said.  
  
“Yes. We heard in an inn south of the neck that Cersei Lannister has named herself Queen of Westeros. Apparently, she has burned down the Sept of Baelor with wildfire, killing hundreds of people trapped inside. Her uncle, Ser Kevan, and Lord Tyrell were two of the victims alongside Queen Margaery and Ser Loras Tyrell.”  
  
Sansa took a sip of her tea.  
  
“Margaery had always been kind to me, probably because the Tyrells tried to marry me off to Loras to get Winterfell. It seems Cersei has gone mad after all. That she named herself queen can only mean that Tommen and Myrcella are dead.”  
  
“I am sorry to bring this bad news.”  
  
Sansa smiled. “It’s not as bad as you think.”  
  
Brienne frowned. How could this not be bad news?  
  
“The Lannisters are now alone. They have no allies left. The Tyrells are gone, thanks to Cersei. Lady Olenna probably already plans her revenge. Dorne hates the Lannisters and the Baratheons are gone too, thanks to your sword.”  
  
Brienne suddenly felt uncomfortable. She hadn’t realized that she had ended an old bloodline. Sansa continued.  
  
“The Riverlands are no force to be reckoned with, and the Freys are hated throughout Westeros. The Vale is our ally. Let them fight in the South. My brother and I only care for the North and its people.”  
  
Brienne had to smile at Sansa.  
  
“Your mother and father would be so proud if they could see you.”  
  
Sansa smiled back at her.


	47. Sansa

It had been a week since Jon had named her queen besides him. They had developed a kind of daily routine. In the morning they listened to the petitions of the smallfolk, and in the afternoon they wrote letters to their lords. In the evening, after the dinner in the great hall, Sansa and Jon would discuss their plans for the North.  
  
They had much work to do. During the short and bloody reign of the Boltons, the North had suffered greatly. With the extinction of the Boltons, Umbers, and Karstarks, great parts of the North had no lord left. The garrison of Last Hearth bent the knee as soon as they heard of the death of their lord, but Karhold and the Dreadfort refused to capitulate.  
  
Littlefinger had been good to his word and left the North on the same day, saying he would return to the Vale to council Lord Robin. The knights of the Vale stayed behind. He probably hoped for the Vale Lords that didn’t support him to die in the wars to come and he could plot undisturbed in the Vale.  
  
Lord Royce had command of the siege at Karholt and left that morning to get back to his men.  
  
Sansa and Jon sat in their father’s solar. It was their solar now. Sansa sat in a cushioned chair at the fire, while Jon wrote a letter to White Harbor.  
  
Lord Manderly would be ordered to lay siege on the Dreadfort. Jon and Sansa hadn’t decided yet what to do with the lands.  
  
“Sansa, it's ready," said Jon, sprinkling the letter with ash to dry the ink.  
  
Sansa walked over to him and wrote her initials right next to Jon’s. Jon folded the letter and sealed it with wax and seal. Jon and Sansa had agreed that every declaration and letter would be signed by both to show that each other knew its content.  
  
Jon handed the letter to the rider that waited outside the door. Jon closed the door, and Sansa and Jon sat down at the fire.  
  
“What do you suggest we should do regarding the South?" Jon asked her.  
  
Jon and Sansa had an understanding by now, that everything regarding the Wall and the White Walker was Jon's métier, while everything south of Moat Cailin was Sansas. All decisions regarding the North were made together.  
  
“I think we shouldn’t do anything for now. We should focus on stabilizing the North. The south is too busy with itself to care what happens here.”  
  
“And what about Cersei Lannister?" Jon asked in a concerned tone.  
  
“She probably still wants my head for the murder of her precious Joffrey, but she will have enough to do with the Tyrells and Martells as enemies.”  
  
“Alright, Sansa, and should they come with an army they still have to pass Moat Cailin.”  
  
Sansa smiled at him and took a sip of her spiced wine.  
  
Jon was adding another log to the fire when someone knocked on the door.  
  
Sansa opened the door. It wasn’t Maester Wolkan, who had agreed to become the temporary maester of Castle Black until Jon's friend could come back. It was the maester who advised Lyanna Mormont.  
  
While many lords had traveled back to their lands and castles to take last preparations for the winter and the upcoming war, Lady Mormont had agreed to stay for a while as their guest.  
  
“A letter for Her Grace," the maester said when he handed Sansa the letter.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
The maester bowed his head and walked away as Sansa closed the door.  
  
Sansa sat back into her chair. Jon eyed her, curious.  
  
Sansa broke the seal and read the letter before throwing it into the fire.  
  
“Bad news?" Jon asked slightly concerned.  
  
Sansa took a sip of her wine, before turning smiling to Jon.  
  
“No, just Lady Dustin. She wanted to remind me that she has a cousin my age who would be a suitable husband.”  
  
Sansa sighed.  
  
“Since the day we were crowned, I’ve gotten one proposal after another. I’ve gotten proposals from every Northern house, and even some of the Vale. Yesterday, some arrogant knight followed me half the day and tried to tell me what a good husband he would be. How brave he has been, fighting the Boltons, and what a generous lover would be.”  
  
Sansa rolled her eyes.  
  
“What was his name? I will make him stop.” Jon said.  
  
“Harrold Hardyng was his name. Lord Royce told me, before he left, that he is the heir to my cousin Robin, and the ward of Lady Anya Waynwood. He will probably become the new Lord of the Vale, since my cousin is a sickly boy. And no need for you to do anything. Sandor made him stop after he called me an ungrateful whore for refusing his offer, that my children could grow up besides his bastards. He won’t speak that way for a long time, now that Sandor broke his jaw.”  
  
Sansa had to laugh.  
  
“You should have seen him, how he threw a tantrum, how someone that isn’t a _ser_ could dare to beat him.”  
  
Jon and Sansa laughed.  
  
“I would have liked to see it. Hardyng should be happy he is still alive. Good that Clegane took care of that, or I would have done it," Jon said in a serious tone.  
  
Jon sighed.  
  
“Since the coronation, the lords come to me with marriage proposals for you, too. Apparently they like to have me as king, but want a trueborn Stark to continue the succession.”  
  
“Some things never change.” Sansa sighed.  
  
“Will you tell me what you think of the proposals?”  
  
“I know I will have to marry again someday, sooner or later, but this time it will be a husband of my choosing. Once in my life, I want to choose the man at my side.”  
  
Jon nodded. “Of course, Sansa. I would never force you to marry anyone.”  
  
“And no one who sent a proposal so far will become my husband. That I can tell you for sure.”  
  
Jon frowned. “Why so? Does no one seem honorable enough?”  
  
Sansa snorted. “Oh, Jon, even you should see the hypocrisy in their requests. Two weeks ago, I was just Lady Bolton or Lady Lannister for them. Even as sister of the king, you would have had trouble finding a husband for me. Potential candidates would have expected a large dowry from you. After all, I am a twice-married woman, no maiden anymore, and some probably think me barren, for not being pregnant after being married twice.”  
  
Jon nodded, thinking about what she had said.  
  
“And now that I am queen, they only want to marry me because they think they will become king through me, and their family will reign the north after us, through our children. They think me stupid not to see the obvious.”  
  
Jon rubbed his face.  
  
“And how do we prevent the North falling into the hands of another family? I am a Snow. Your children will have their father's name, and your husband will be king, like my potential wife will be queen.”  
  
Sansa filled their cups again.  
  
“Its pretty simply dear brother. I won't change my name when I marry. I will stay a Stark, and my husband won't be king, only prince consort. Many men will lose their interest if they can't have power in the North and over me. Same with your potential wife. Both our children will be Starks.”  
  
“That might make me a more attractive potential husband, but do you really think there is a man in Westeros who would marry knowing these conditions?”  
  
Sansa took sip of her wine and eyed Jon over her cup, while he smiled at her with a hint of curiosity.  
  
“There might be a single one," Sansa said with a smile.


	48. Sansa

The snow had fallen heavily since morning. Not many people came to petition anything, so Sansa had some time for sewing in her room. Jon had decided to spend his free time drinking with Davos and Tormund. Sansa needed some time for herself with Brienne, so she had encouraged Sandor and Podrick to join them.  
  
Brienne sat in a chair next to Sansa in front of the fire. A pot of mint tea stood steaming on a small table between them. Since the snow fell unyielding, Brienne couldn’t do any sparring. Sansa had tried to teach her some needlework, but Brienne had more talent in fighting with swords than fighting with a needle.  
  
While Sansa continued to work on a piece of cloth with a technique her mother had once taught her, she tried to make some small talk.  
  
Brienne told her of Tarth and her time growing up there. Brienne also told her how she had always practised sword-fighting with sticks.  
  
Sansa smiled. “My sister Arya also liked to practise with sticks. She struck down Prince Joffrey near the Ruby Ford during our travels down to King's Landing, because he interrupted her play with the butcher boy. Mycah was his name, I think.”  
  
Sansa became sad at the memory what had happened afterwards.  
  
“What happened then, Your Grace?" Brienne asked.  
  
“How often do I have to tell you to call me Sansa, at least in private?" Sansa said, smiling. “Joffrey tried to kill Arya with his sword, but my sister’s wolf Nymeria prevented it by biting him. Arya ran off with her wolf and she was found later that night. We were brought to King Robert to answer his questions. The Queen wanted the wolf of my sister killed for attacking her golden son, but Arya had chased her away to prevent this. But Cersei demanded blood and so she wanted my wolf killed as punishment. I pleaded for her life, because Lady was kind and hadn’t attacked anyone, but my pleading and crying just seemed to amuse Cersei and Joffrey. I should have seen what they were at that point, but I was a stupid child.”  
  
“Couldn’t you father have done anything? He was a friend of the King, wasn’t he?”  
  
“He tried, but Robert had decided. The only thing King Robert had to say was that my father should get me a dog, I would be happier for it.”  
  
“I am sorry Your Gr… Sansa.”  
  
They sat a while in silence. Brienne took a sip of her tea, and Sansa made some new stitches.  
  
“Brienne, I need to talk about something.”  
  
“Of course, Sansa.”  
  
Sansa put her needlepoint down. “Have you ever been in love?”  
  
Brienne looked slightly shocked at her. “My Lady, why would you ask?" she asked. It was obvious that she felt uncomfortable.  
  
“I ask you because you are the only woman I trust, right now. I would ask my mother, if it were possible.”  
  
Sansa sighed. “I ask, because I am to marry sooner or later, and I will choose my husband this time. I have had feelings for a man for a long time now, but I am not sure if that what I feel is love. After all, I once thought myself in love with Joffrey, and after that with Loras Tyrell. So, have you been in love with a man?”  
  
“My Lady…I am called the Maid of Tarth for a reason.”  
  
“That doesn’t necessarily mean that you have never been in love.”  
  
Brienne blushed and adverted her eyes.  
  
“Brienne, you can tell me. I won't tell anyone.”  
  
“I wouldn’t necessarily say that I have been in love with him. But I felt deeply for him until I met him again.”  
  
“Who was he?" Sansa asked.  
  
“Jaime Lannister," Brienne said hesitantly.  
  
“The Kingslayer?" Sansa asked surprised, “I thought he only loved Cersei.”  
  
“Apparently he does. Or so he said, the last time I saw him at Riverrun.” Brienne seemed to be sad.  
  
“He had changed during the time I traveled with him on order of your lady mother. He always tried to provoke and insult me, and even tried to kill me once.”  
  
“What changed?”  
  
“We were captured by some of Roose Bolton's hunters that your brother had sent after us. Ser Jaime convinced them that my father would pay my weight in sapphires for my wellbeing. He saved me from being ravished, but paid with his sword hand.”  
  
“So this is how Ser Jaime lost his hand. Tyrion never told me.” Sansa was surprised.  
  
“He was a broken man during the travel to Harrenhal, but the things he told me during our stay there... I saw a side of Jaime Lannister the world doesn’t know.”  
  
Brienne told Sansa the story of why he had killed the mad king. Sansa was especially surprised when she heard how Jaime had saved her from Harrenhal after he had dreamed of her.  
  
“Since then I’ve felt something for him, something that was more than just gratitude. And I had hoped he would maybe feel the same, but I never knew.” Brienne said with sadness in her voice.  
  
Everything that Brienne had told her sounded pretty familiar to her. “That sounds like you were in love with him.”  
  
Brienne blushed again. “Maybe I was, but it doesn’t matter now. He is gone and back in the arms of his sister, and I am here to serve you.”  
  
Sansa smiled at her. “I am glad you are here, Brienne. Thank you. I am glad I could ask you.”  
  
Sansa looked out of the window. The snowfall had stopped and the sound of clashing swords could be heard. Brienne noticed the sound too, and started to fidget in her chair. Sansa smiled at her.  
  
“It's alright, Brienne. You can go sparring, if you like.”  
  
Brienne stood up and nodded her head. “Thank you, Your Gra… Sansa.”  
  
Brienne turned and left the room. Sansa had to chuckle at Brienne always falling back into her old pattern.  
  
Sansa looked at her needlework and was glad that what she felt could be real love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next pov Jon


	49. Jon

Jon sat at the dining table in their solar. Sansa had asked him yesterday to break their fast together the next day. He still had a slight hangover. Tormund had been drunk under the table by Podrick Payne. Podrick had told them that he had learned that from his time as Tyrion's squire.  
  
It had been great to get to know better, these men that serve him and his sister. Jon thought they had even developed some kind of friendship. After his seventh horn of ale, Tormund was constantly talking about Brienne and where she might spend her time. Jon had told him that she was with Sansa. Jon couldn’t help but recognise how Clegane’s expression softened at the mention of Sansa's name. Jon still had no idea how close the two were, but Sansa obviously had deep trust in him.  
  
A soft knock interrupted his thoughts. Sansa entered smiling and greeted him with a kiss on his cheek.  
  
Shortly after they had sat down, two servants brought them fresh bread, bacon and some boiled eggs, honey and some jam.  
  
They ate in silence, but Sansa gave him some small smiles from time to time. Sansa seemed more cheerful. Jon was glad that Sansa was slowly getting her happiness back. It felt like he ages since he had seen her smiling honestly.  
  
“Jon?" Sansa asked.  
  
“Yes, Sansa?” Jon raised his cup of tea to his lips.  
  
“Can you tell me the signs that indicate that a man is interested in you?”  
  
Jon choked on his tea and spilled some of it on his tunic.  
  
“What?" Jon managed to stammer, coughing. Jon would have never expected Sansa to ask that kind of question. Definitely not of him.  
  
A light blush reddened Sansa's face.  
  
“I want you to tell me what signs a man shows if he is interested in a woman. And I mean really interested in her as person. After all, I only know the lewd looks of men that only interested in my claim and body.”  
  
The thought that Sansa had never experienced how a man could look at her without assessing her for her use pained Jon's heart. Of course she hadn’t, you fool, Jon reminded himself, she was the prisoner of the Lannisters who only valued her claim, and most men only valued a woman by her beauty. Sansa had flowered into a woman, without a mother and father to guide her. She had been alone surrounded by enemies. You know nothing Jon Snow, a voice whispered in his head.  
  
Jon remembered Ygritte and how he had behaved towards her. Jon had loved her, and the memory of holding her in his arms still made his heart ache.  
  
Sansa stared at him expectantly.  
  
“Well…" Jon started. Damn, that was harder than expected.  
  
“Only give me some hints, Jon.”  
  
Easier said than done, Jon thought. “He will be different to you than he is to other people. He will give you smiles and make you smile. If a man is really interested in you, he will always listen to your fears, and will do everything to protect you.”  
  
Sansa smiled.  
  
“And of course he will tell you how beautiful you look, but it isn’t too unlikely that he stammers like a fool when he compliment you.”  
  
Jon felt the heat rise to his face, remembering how he had made himself a fool when he had tried to give Ygritte a compliment. He hoped Sansa wouldn’t see his embarrassment at this memory. Jon turned his eyes to her and saw that her face nearly matched her hair. She looked at her plate.  
  
“Are you alright, Sansa?" Jon asked in an amused tone.  
  
“Yes… uhm… do you think a man would tell me his feelings if many of the things you told me were true for him?”  
  
“Maybe, but it could also be that he fears your reaction, so he stays quiet.”  
  
Sansa frowned. “Do you think he would talk to someone he knows about it?”  
  
“Quite possible.” Jon couldn’t help but think that Sansa’s questions sounded like she already had someone in mind.  
  
Sansa nodded.  
  
“Sansa, is there someone I need to know about?" Jon asked, curious.  
  
Sansa smiled shyly at him, and a slight blush reddened her cheeks.  
  
“Not yet, but hopefully soon.”


	50. Brienne

Brienne was walking through Winterfell's main courtyard looking for Sandor Clegane. Every time she thought about the order she had gotten from Lady Sansa, Brienne felt the heat rise to her face.  
  
Why must it be me? Brienne had asked herself a dozen times by now.  
  
Sansa had called her to her chamber earlier, and told her to seek out Clegane and interrogate him about any feelings he might have for her. Of course, Clegane shouldn’t get suspicious, so Brienne had to wrap her interrogation into harmless small talk.  
  
It made Brienne's face burn to think about such things, let alone talk about it. But her queen had given her an order, and she had sworn a holy oath to her and to her lady mother before her.  
  
What would Lady Catelyn say if she could see her daughter now? Would she be happy that daughter might be in love? Would she be scandalized with who she has chosen? And what would Lady Catelyn say about the order her daughter had given Brienne?  
  
It didn’t matter anyway. Lady Catelyn was dead, but the things she had told Brienne during their time in Riverrun, about how happy Sansa’s childhood had been, made her think it was part of her oath to help Sansa get her happiness back. And if that meant Brienne had to worm out the feelings of Sandor Clegane, then so be it.  
  
She had asked one soldier if he had seen Clegane and he had told her that he was near the stables.  
  
Brienne cursed inwardly when she saw Tormund walking towards her. He grinned widely at her.  
  
Gods, I don’t have time for this now, Brienne thought.  
  
“Hello, beautiful lady, what are you up to this morning?" Tormund asked her when he stood right in front of her.  
  
“I’m looking for Sandor Clegane,” Brienne simply answered.  
  
“He is in the stables. Have you seen what he did yesterday?”  
  
Brienne had no idea what he was referring to. She had only heard that there had been a brawl yesterday.  
  
“You mean the fight?" Brienne asked.  
  
“Yes, if you can call that a fight. That poor Southern fucker had no chance against him. I think you can still find some of his teeth somewhere in the mud.”  
  
“Gods, what caused that?” Brienne was curious what had caused that violence.  
  
“Lady Sansa was walking through the courtyard with that knight on her heels, constantly talking to her. Suddenly he got angry at her and called her an ungrateful whore, after she said something to him. Even before the Northmen present could pull their swords, Sandor already had him on the ground, raining punches down on the knight. He would probably have killed that poor fucker, if three men had not pulled him away. Sandor only stopped trying to break free, to kill that knight, when Lady Sansa called his name.”  
  
“He calmed down when she called him?”  
  
“Gods, woman. It was immediate. He turned to Lady Sansa and asked if she was alright, then they walked off like nothing had happened, while the knight spat insults after them through his broken teeth.”  
  
“So he just defended Sansa’s honor.”  
  
Tormund huffed. “That’s an understatement. He nearly killed that fucker with his bare hands because he insulted Jon Snow's sister. She means more to him than he wants to admit to anyone, but I have eyes and can see how he looks at just the mention of her name.”  
  
Interesting, Brienne thought. Her order might just have gotten a bit easier.  
  
Brienne just nodded and went on her way to the stables; after all, her queen was waiting for her report.


	51. Sandor

Sandor tended to his horse. Every time he brushed down the brown stallion, he missed Stranger, that loyal, ill-tempered beast.  
  
He looked down at his bruised knuckles and remembered how that smug smirk had left the face of _ser_ Harrold Hardyng with every punch of his fist. That fucking knight should feel lucky he was still alive, after insulting the little bird in front of everyone. He would never sit by while someone insulted Sansa.  
  
“Clegane," someone called from behind.  
  
He nearly thought that knight cunt had returned with some friends, but when he turned, he saw that it was Brienne.  
  
“Brienne.”  
  
“Umm, what are you doing?”  
  
“I looked after my horse. Shouldn’t you be with Sansa?”  
  
“Yes, but she gave me an order to leave her for a while.”  
  
Sandor chuckled. “Brienne. You lie worse than the little bird did, back in King's Landing. Just tell me why you are here.”  
  
Brienne blushed. She obviously hadn’t expected to be called out on her lie.  
  
“Umm, well, Lady Sansa sent me.”  
  
Sandor was curious why would his littlebird sent her to him. “Is Sansa alright? Does she need me?”  
  
“Maybe," Brienne simply said, eying him curiously.  
  
“What does that mean?”  
  
Brienne took a deep breath. “Well, Queen Sansa might have implied that she thinks you probably…eventually…maybe… possibly have feelings for her… umm… romantic feelings.”  
  
Sandors eyed widened in surprise. “Why should she think that?," Sandor asked, feeling his face warm up. Sandor had no idea how deeply he felt for Sansa. She was the reason he had wanted to live, but could this be more than just protective instinct and some kind of deep friendship?  
  
“Because you behaved like that. Gods, Tormund told me you nearly killed that knight yesterday, and who knows what else you already have done for her?”

If you only knew, Sandor thought. He recalled their time in King's Landing. Sandor had no idea why he had started to care about Sansa at all. Maybe after the incident at the Trident, when Joffrey had told him he would make Sansa pay for seeing him cry. Maybe it was during the Tourney of the Hand, when he had escorted her back to the keep. He had tried to scare her with the story of his scars, but instead of being scared, she had offered him comfort. Maybe it was when Joffrey started to make good on his promise, when he took the head of Ned Stark.  
  
“And what are her feelings?," Sandor asked carefully.  
  
Brienne groaned. She seemed frustrated. “You mean a great deal to her. Even you should have noticed it by now. You are the only one she really opens up to. Just talk to her about it.”  
  
Sandor felt nervous. He remembered the words of Dondarion, back at the inn. “Your head fears what your heart wants," Dondarion had said.  
  
Sandor nodded. “I will talk to her. Can you ask Sansa to meet me in the godswood?" Sandor asked hopefully.  
  
“I gladly will, Clegane.” She turned to leave.  
  
“And Brienne.”  
  
Brienne stopped.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Brienne nodded and left.


	52. Sansa

Sansa waited anxiously in her room for Brienne to return.  
  
All last night, Sansa had fathomed her feelings towards Sandor and had spent time thinking about what Brienne and Jon had told her. It warmed Sansa's heart that Brienne herself couldn’t explain why she had fallen in love with the Kingslayer. Sansa still couldn’t put her finger on exactly when she had started to feel different towards Sandor.  
  
Sansa pretty much ran to the door when someone knocked.  
  
Brienne entered the room and Sansa looked at her expectantly.  
  
“And?" Sansa asked in a hopeful tone. She hoped so much that she hadn’t misinterpreted Sandor’s behavior.  
  
“My Lady, he wants to meet you in the godswood.”  
  
“Umm, alright, but what did he say?”  
  
“He didn’t really give anything away, but he seemed surprised when I told him you sent me.”  
  
Sansa's face heated up. “You did what? You should have asked him discreetly and not tell him right away I sent you," she said, burying her face in her hands.  
  
“My lady, there was no other way. He doesn’t open up to anyone but you. So please, go and speak to him.”  
  
Sansa grabbed her cloak and walked past Brienne, who bowed her head when she passed.  
  
Sansa walked towards the godswood entrance and felt her heart pounding madly. Today the clouds had broken up, and a clear blue dominated the sky.  
  


When Sansa reached the weirwood, she nearly feared that Sandor hadn’t come, but then she saw him siting against the tree’s trunk.  
  
“Sandor," she softly said.  
  
He raised his eyes. “Little bird. I knew you would come,” he softly rasped.  
  
“You once said that to me.” Sansa remembered that night vividly.  
  
Sandor stood up to his full height. “Aye, I did.”  
  
“A different time and a different man," Sansa said.  
  
“Aye. You were also so different back then. A little bird chirping for her life.”  
  
Sansa had to smile. “And you were a hound that liked to bark, but I know you would never have bitten me.”  
  
“And made you so sure about it, little bird?”  
  
“Maybe the way you treated me in contrast to everyone else. Maybe how you were the only one who came back to me during the bread riots, or covered me with your cloak when everybody else took delight in my humiliation. But probably ever since you told me I would be glad of the hateful things you would do one day, when you would have been the only thing standing between me and Joffrey.”  
  
“Aye, I would have killed that cunt, should it have come to that.”  
  
Sansa felt heat well in her chest at hearing that declaration again. “Sandor, what am I to you? Brienne couldn’t find out.”  
  
His grey eyes were focused on her blue ones. “Why do you suddenly want to know Sansa?”  
  
Sansa sighed. Why can’t he simply answer me? Sansa thought, frustrated.  
  
“Sandor, I will tell you why. I have feelings towards you. I have for a long time, now. You might think me stupid again, but I might think that it's more, and since I am to choose my next husband by myself, I have hoped that you might feel similar towards me.”  
  
Sansa saw how Sandor's face softened with every of her words.  
  
“You are everything my father wanted for me. Shortly before he died, he told me he would find me a husband that is brave, gentle, and strong, and you have all of those in you. I hope to have, at least once in my life, a man at my side who cares for me as a person. But if you don’t feel anything for me, as I do for you, I won't hold any grudge against you.”  
  
Sansa's last words were choked with emotion.  
  
When Sandor didn’t answer right away, she turned to leave. Hot tears forced their way into her eyes, but before they had a chance to fall, Sandor grabbed her hand and pulled her into an embrace. Sansa felt his hot breath on her ear.  
  
“Little bird," he rasped. Sansa felt his warm hands through her cloak and dress.  
  
“You are the only person I ever cared about in my life. You are the reason I wanted to live when I was close to death. I never dreamt that a woman as smart and beautiful as you could ever feel anything for me.”  
  
Sansa looked up into his eyes.  
  
“Sansa, I’ve never felt so deeply for anyone or anything my entire life. If that’s what love feels like, I won't turn my back on it.”  
  
He took her face in his hands. “Sansa Stark, I love you.”  
  
Sansa smiled widely and a pair of tears rolled down her cheeks. For the first time in ages, they were tears of happiness.  
  
“And I love you, Sandor Clegane.”  
  
Sandor smiled back at her, swiping the tears away with his thumbs.  
  
“Will you kiss me again, Sandor?," Sansa shyly asked. She had often dreamed of what it would feel like to kiss him again.  
  
Sandor seemed confused. “I never kissed you before little bird.”  
  
“Yes, you did, during the Blackwater," Sansa solemnly said.  
  
“No, Sansa, you sang me a song, and I left you with my cloak, but I never kissed you.”  
  
Could she only have dreamed it? It had felt so real. She’d always recalled how his lips had felt on hers, every time someone else kissed her after that.  
  
“I was so sure you had kissed me. Every time other people had their lips on mine, I thought about you," Sansa said in a sad way.  
  
Instead of an answer, Sandor leaned toward her and placed a small kiss on her lips. His beard tickled her and she felt the roughness of his burned skin, but the feel made her legs go weak.  
  
“Did you remember it like that?" Sandor softly rasped.  
  
“Yes… but maybe we should do it again, so I can be sure," Sansa said breathlessly. Her heart was pounding like mad.  
  
“Aye," Sandor answered, as breathless as her.  
  
Their lips met again, and Sansa felt heat burn through her body.  
  
When his lips left hers, she opened her eyes. Sansa hadn’t even noticed she had closed them, but now she looked into the deep grey pools of the man she loved. Sansa took his hands in hers. Now there was only one question left to ask.  
  
“Sandor," Sansa nervously asked, looking at him through her eyelashes. “Will you marry me?”  
  
“Aye, little bird. I will gladly marry you.”  
  
Sansa's face lit up, and she jumped into his arms.


	53. Sansa

Sandor held her tight against his chest. Sansa didn’t know if she should smile or cry for joy. She was overwhelmed by everything. For the first time since she left Winterfell, Sansa had gotten what she wanted: someone at her side by her own choosing; someone who didn’t see her as property, but as a person.  
  
Sansa felt Sandor kiss the crown of her head, inhaling her scent. Sansa inhaled his scent in return. The smell of smoke, leather and wood. The smell of the North.  
  
Sandor loosened his embrace and Sansa looked up at his face. He smiled down at her, his hand rubbing small circles over her back. Sansa couldn’t help but smile back at him.  
  
A light gust of wind made one strand of her hair fall out of her braid. Sandor gently brushed it behind her ear. Sansa felt like she was dreaming. She didn’t want this moment to end.  
  
“Sandor, is this a dream?" Sansa asked.  
  
“No, little bird. You are not dreaming. I am here with you, my love," he softly replied.  
  
“Then maybe we should tell Jon the good news, shouldn’t we?”  
  
“Aye, we’d better, or people will start talking about us," he answered in a teasing tone.  
  
Sansa laughed softly and linked her arm with his. They walked down the path to the godswood entrance. The crunch of snow and the crunch of twigs under their feet were the only sound that disturbed the silence.  
  
When they reached the gates to the godswood, there was turmoil in the main courtyard. Jon greeted some corpulent young man with a maester’s chain who had just climbed from a wheelhouse. A young woman with a toddler remained inside it.  
  
“Ahh, Sansa," Jon called her, when he spotted her and Sandor.  
  
Sansa walked over with Sandor.  
  
“Sansa, this is Samwell Tarly. He was one of my only friends at Castle Black. I sent him to Oldtown to become a maester.”  
  
Jon turned to Sam. “Sam, this is my sister, Sansa, the Lady of Winterfell and Queen in the North.”  
  
Sam bowed his head. “An honor to meet you, my lad... I mean, Your Grace," he stammered.  
  
“Likewise. It is always good to meet one of Jon’s friends.”  
  
Sam turned back to Jon. “I hope it’s alright if Gilly and little Sam can stay here when I continue to Castle Black.”  
  
“You will stay here in Winterfell, too. I sent you to Oldtown when I was still Lord Commander. Now everything is different. I was murdered, and now I am king," Jon said.  
  
“You were what?" a voice called.  
  
Sam turned to small person that jumped down the carriage.  
  
“Fuck me with a hot poker," Sandor whispered.  
  
It made Sansa suspicious and she eyed that person closely. Sansa's eyes widened in shock.  
  
“Arya!”


	54. Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for @mademoiselle_k since i couldnt let her suffer any longer in uncertainty ^^

Sandor couldn’t believe his eyes. The last time he had seen her, she was walking off with his silver, leaving him to die slowly.  
  
It had felt good to see the three Stark siblings finally reunited. Sansa ran into Arya’s arms, tears of joy flowing freely. Jon embraced his two sisters and ruffled the hair off the little she-wolf.  
  
Arya had seen him before she went inside the keep with Sansa and Jon, he was sure of that. Would she still want to kill him? He would probably find out soon enough.  
  
Sansa had told him that she would look for him later. Sandor understood that she would of course want to spent time with her sister and brother to celebrate their reunion.  
  
While the siblings caught up to each other. Sandor helped that fat friend of Jon’s to unload the carriage. It was filled with crates full of herbs and pots of ointments.  
  
“How the hells did you end up with Arya Stark, maester?" Sandor asked.  
  
“We didn’t know it was Arya Stark. We met her south of the Neck. She asked where we were heading, and I told her North to the Wall, with a stop at Winterfell since the Starks have it back. She said she lived in Winterfell and said she was _no one_ when we asked her who she was. I thought she was just some servant girl. And please, call me Sam.”  
  
Sam held his hand stretched out to him.  
  
Sandor shook it.” Sandor Clegane.”  
  
“You are the Hound,” Sam said, surprised.  
  
“Aye, I was, but the Hound is dead and gone.”  
  
Sam excused himself, when the woman who had traveled with him called for him.  
  
Sandor went to the stables to check on his horse. He brushed him down and fed him an apple he had stolen from Sam’s carriage. While he scratched the horse behind its ear, Sandor thought about what he should name him. He heard the straw rustle behind him.  
  
“Are you here to finally kill me?" Sandor asked while turning around.  
  
“If I wanted you dead, you would be dead," Arya simply said.  
  
“So you don’t want to kill me anymore?"Sandor asked, curious.  
  
She had grown since he last saw her. She stood on the brink of womanhood.  
  
“No, your name is not on my list anymore.”  
  
“Why? What made you reconsider? The last time I saw you, you refused me mercy.”  
  
“During my time in Braavos. I had to admit that I didn’t want you dead anymore. So you don’t have a place on my list anymore.”  
  
Sandor sighed. That’s something, Sandor thought.  
  
“Have you checked more people off your little list?”  
  
“Aye: Walder Frey, his eldest sons, Meryn Trant.”  
  
“You murdered the Freys?" Sandor asked, surprised. Sansa had only told him that that Lord Frey had been murdered.  
  
“Yes, I did. I slit his throat after baking his sons into a pie, as revenge for the Red Wedding. And I killed Trant in a brothel in Braavos, while he looked for young flesh.”  
  
Sandor simply nodded. It has been well known in King's Landing that Trant liked his whores too young. Sandor still remembered how Trant had enjoyed Sansa’s beating in the throne room on Joffrey’s order. For this alone, Sandor would have killed him himself.  
  
Arya and Sandor stared at each other.  
  
“Shouldn’t you be with your siblings? They missed you a lot, you know," Sandor said.  
  
“We had our reunion. Sansa said you had changed, and I wanted to see for myself.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“You aren’t the same man that cried about leaving Sansa in King's Landing before I left.”  
  
“A lot of time has passed.” Sandor scratched his beard.  
  
“So what are we? Friends or foes?” Sandor asked.  
  
“Sansa told me that you helped her in King's Landing. She confirmed what you told me, how you saved her from the mob. Jon told me how you kept her safe when she fled Winterfell, and how you helped to retake the castle. We will be friends.”  
  
Sandor nodded again. “I see you still have your little sword.”  
  
“Yes, I have it. It was the only thing that reminded me of Winterfell and my family.”  
  
“And did you find your killer friend in Braavos?”  
  
“I did. He taught me many things, and I was close to becoming one of them.”  
  
“What discouraged you?” Sandor leaned against a door of his horsebox.  
  
Arya leaned against the opposite wall. “I was ordered to kill an actress of a theatre troupe. Lady Crane, was her name. I had to observe my target first. Find out the best way to do it.”  
  
Sandor was genuine curious. “And?," he asked.  
  
“She always drank rum after a performance, so I could easily poison her, but that’s not the point. Their play was called the Bloody Hand. It showed how my father allegedly betrayed King Robert to become king. There was also a part for Sansa.”  
  
“I understand. It reminded you that you still had family left,” Sandor said.  
  
“I know what happened to Sansa," Arya told him. “She didn’t tell what happened to her during our talk earlier, besides what you told me during our travel, but I saw it in the play. She was ravished by the imp when she was forced to marry him.”  
  
Sandor heart clenched. He still felt his heart bleed at the thought of what has happened to the woman he loved. He shook his head and Arya gave him a searching look.  
  
“It wasn’t the imp that hurt her. Sansa told me the imp had never laid hand on her.”  
  
“What happened to her then?”  
  
“She got caught in the clutches of the Bolton bastard. She was married to the son of the man that murdered your brother.”  
  
“What did he do to her? She only said that you and Brienne saved her.”  
  
“It's not my place to tell you," Sandor said.  
  
“But she told you didn’t she?" Arya asked with a concerned look.  
  
Sandor nodded. “Yes, she did. Your sister will tell you someday, I am sure of that. She often told me how she missed you, and hoped that you were alright. Give her time. When I found her, she was nearly broken, but she is stronger than most people see. She is a wolf, just like you.”  
  
“Yes, she is so changed. I nearly don’t recognize her. Same for you. I never thought I would actually say it, but I am glad that you are here, and that Sansa chose you.”  
  
Sandor raised his eyes in surprise. “She told you?”  
  
Arya laughed. “Of course she told us. She was nervous about our reactions, but she is obviously in love with you. Jon trusts Sansa’s assessment of you, so I think he is fine with it, but I only knew the Hound. You also love her, don’t you?”  
  
Sandor felt heat float through his veins. “Yes, I do.”  
  
Arya grinned. “The mighty Hound, tamed by my lady sister.”  
  
Sandor chuckled. “You would be surprised. Your sister actually made the Hound reappear the night I slaughtered the Bolton bastard for her, down in the kennels.”  
  
“Did you make him suffer?” Sandor nodded.  
  
“Good.” Arya turned to leave the stable, but stopped at the entrance. “Thank you. For everything you did for me and my family.”  
  
Then she left before Sandor had the chance to say anything.


	55. Sansa

Sansa was overwhelmed with emotions. Arya had returned home. As soon as they had reached their solar, Sansa started to apologize to Arya what a bad sister she had been. Sansa regretted how she had always called her ‘horseface’ and never defended her sewing against Septa Mordane's critique.  
  
Arya told her that it was alright, since they had only been children. Arya also apologized for putting sheep dung into her bed so often.  
  
Jon and Sansa listened interested to Arya’s story: how she’d fled the city, how she had served as cupbearer for Tywin Lannister and Roose Bolton, her time with Sandor and in Braavos.  
  
When Arya asked Sansa what happened to her, she only told her what happened in King's Landing and at the Eyrie. When Arya tried to probe deeper into what happened during her return to Winterfell, Sansa told her what Sandor had done for her, and how he helped taking back Winterfell, to avoid talking about it. The memory was still too painful to talk casually about it.  
  
Sansa thought it was the best moment to tell her sibling that she had asked Sandor to marry her. Jon was taken aback, a bit, and simply nodded, while Arya left the room, saying she going to find her future brother-in-law.  
  


  
Now she was alone with Jon in the solar.  
  
“So, Sandor Clegane.” Jon said with a sigh.  
  
“Yes, Sandor Clegane," Sansa simply answered.  
  
“No knight in shining armor any more for my lady sister?" Jon asked in a teasing tone.  
  
That girl died a long time ago, Sansa thought. Every beating in King's Landing made her hate knights more.  
  
“Not anymore. He is much better than any knight could ever be," Sansa said, smiling.  
  
“He means a great deal to you, doesn’t he?" Jon asked her, taking a sip of his wine.  
  
“More than that Jon. I love him.”  
  
Jon nodded.  
  
“He is my choice, Jon, but I hoped you would at least give us your blessing, so I know I don’t lose my family over my choice of husband.”  
  
“He is a good choice. Maybe a bit unusual for outsiders. Since the day you rode into the courtyard of Castle Black with him in tow, I got to know him better and saw first hand how much he cares for you. He loves you too, doesn’t he? That’s why you asked me for the signs?”  
  
Sansa felt a slight flush heat her cheeks. She smiled shyly at Jon before nodding.  
  
“Of course you have my blessing. If he makes you happy, I am happy too. You deserve to be loved and happy, Sansa.”  
  
Sansa smiled widely. “Yes, he makes me very happy. We both have our hidden scars, and we soothe each other's pain. He is the only man that never had ulterior thoughts regarding me.”  
  
Jon held out his hand and Sansa grabbed it. Jon pulled her into a tight embrace.  
  
“First we get Arya back, and then you tell me you found a man worthy of you. I am happy for you, Sansa.” Jon leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead.  


  
The door opened and Arya entered again. When her eyes landed on Sansa and Jon, she smiled widely.  
  
Having his arms still around Sansa, Jon looked at Arya.  
  
“What?" he asked in a curious tone.  
  
“You look like a younger version of father and mother," she said with a chuckle, while walking over to them.  
  
Jon loosened his embrace.  
  
“Jon just gave me his blessing. I hoped you would give me your blessing, too, Arya. I know you don’t like Sandor, but…” Sansa said with uncertainty in her voice. “I hoped you could at least tolerate him with me. Do you remember the evening before hell broke lose in King's Landing? When Father told us he wanted to send us home, and I begged him to stay? He told me he would find me a husband that was brave, gentle and strong.”  
  
Arya nodded.  
  
“Yes, I remember. You were so desperately trying to convince father to let you stay with Joffrey.”  
  
“I was stupid, back then. But Sandor is everything Father wanted for me. I had to learn it the hard way, to see the worth of a man.”  
  
Arya opened her mouth, but seemed hesitant to say what she wanted.  
  
“Sansa, I… I know what you have been through. I saw a theatre play in Braavos that showed how you were ravished by the Imp.”  
  
Sansa tensed. She had completely forgotten Tyrion, the first husband she’d been forced to marry. He had tried to be kind to her. He had never forced himself on her, but Sansa had always seen the desire in his eyes. It had just been a question of time before he’d have taken her, to get the claim to the North his father desired.  
  
Sansa was just about to tell her sister that Tyrion had not laid a finger on her when Arya continued.  
  
“Sandor told me it wasn’t the Imp. I know it was the Bolton bastard. Sandor didn’t say anything further. We have all been through a lot, and we all deserve our share of happiness. If Clegane makes you happy, I will give you my blessing. After all, he had already been fallen for you when I traveled with him, constantly talking about you. Sansa here, little bird there.” Arya chuckled.  
  
Sansa embraced Arya tightly. “Thank you, Arya. It means so much to me to know that you don’t hate me for being with Sandor.”  
  
Arya returned her hug. “I could never hate you, Sansa. The lone wolf dies, the pack survives.”


	56. Sansa

Sansa and Arya broke their fast together the next morning. Arya wolfed down a second plate of bacon and eggs, not caring about table manners. The old Sansa would have been scandalized about it, but Sansa now didn’t care about such trivial matters anymore. She was just happy to have her sister back.  
  
“So you are queen, now?" Arya asked, chewing on a crispy bacon strip.  
  
Sansa took a sip of her tea. “Yes, but only because Jon named me queen. The North chose him.”  
  
“But you are the eldest true-born child.” Arya asked with narrowed eyes.  
  
“The North only saw me as Lady Bolton or Lady Lannister. So they chose the bastard of their beloved Ned instead of me. They probably saw me as traitor.”  
  
“And why did Jon do it, then?" Arya asked, filling her plate again.  
  
“Sandor talked to him. I told Sandor about my fears, that I would be married off for an alliance again soon, and he told Jon. I was terrified at the thought of another marriage without having a choice.”  
  
Arya looked down at her plate and nodded. “And Sandor changed your opinion of marriage?”  
  
Sansa sighed. “Before I knew that he loved me, I only hoped he would marry me because I knew he would never hurt me as Ramsay had every night. He would never let anyone hurt me again.”  
  
Arya smiled at her and Sansa simply smiled back.  
  
“So when you are queen and Jon is king, doesn’t that mean I am a princess now?”  
  
Sansa had to chuckle. “Yes, you are officially Princess Arya Stark of Winterfell.”  
  
Arya finished her plate and pushed it away. “And what now? Will you try to make me into the perfect lady, so I can be married off suitably as well?”  
  
Sansa hadn’t really thought about that at all. Arya had been a wild young girl when their ways had separated, and now she was a young woman of fifteen. Sansa knew that Arya would never become a southern lady like her mother wished.  
  
“No. To make you a lady was Mother’s and Septa Mordane's dream. Father knew that wasn’t your way. And no, we won't marry you off. You will have the same choice as I.”  
  
“And can I continue to practice with Needle? Father let me practice in King's Landing.”  
  
An idea was forming in Sansa's head. “I might even have a better idea," Sansa said, taking a sip of her tea, while Arya looked at her curiously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next pov Brienne


	57. Brienne

Sansa had told Brienne to wait for her in the main courtyard with some practice swords.  
  
Yesterday Sandor had found her in a stall with his horse, where she was hiding from Tormund. Sandor had even told Tormund that he hadn’t seen her when he checked the stables for her. Brienne had been so grateful to him. After that, Sandor had told her that Arya had returned with Jon's friend, the son of Randyll Tarly. Brienne knew Lord Tarly from her time with Renly.  
  
Brienne had carefully asked Sandor how his talk with Sansa had gone. When he stayed silent, Brienne started to fear the worse, but then a wide smile started to spread on his face as he told her they were going to get married.  
  
Brienne was happy for both of them.  
  
“Ahh Brienne," Sansa called her while she came closer with Arya in tow. “I think you already know my sister.”  
  
Brienne bowed her head respectfully “Princess.”  
  
“You can call me Arya.” Arya said quickly. “And I am sorry that I didn’t trust you back then in the Vale.”  
  
“No need to apologize, princess.”  
  
Arya chuckled. “Arya, Brienne, simply Arya.”  
  
“Of course, princ… Arya.”  
  
Now Sansa was chuckling.  
  
Lady Lyanna Mormont walked over with her master at arms. Sansa turned towards them.  
  
“Lady Mormont, how nice of you to join us. May I introduce you to my sister? Arya, this is Lady Lyanna Mormont.”  
  
Lady Mormont made a curtsey. “Princess.” She turned to Sansa. “You asked for my presence, your grace?”  
  
“Yes, I did indeed, Lady Mormont. I know the women of the Bear Island are great warriors, like your lady mother and sisters. Your mother would want you to learn how to fight.”  
  
She turned to Arya. “My sister will continue her own fighting practices with Lady Brienne, and I thought you might want to join with your master-at-arms, so you two can practice together and learn from experienced warriors.”  
  
Lyanna gave her master-at-arms a look over her shoulder and he nodded back.  
  
“You are right, Your Grace. My mother would have wanted me to become a warrior. Just one question, before we start: do I have to hold back, so I don’t hurt the princess?”  
  
“No, you don’t," Sansa simply said, smiling.  
  
“As if you could hurt me," Arya said in a teasing tone.  
  
“We will see," Lyanna answered while grabbing the wooden swords Brienne had brought along, and tossed one to Aryas feet.  
  
As soon as Arya had taken the sword the little bear started to let one swing after another rain down on her. Both girls cursed at each other while sparring.  
  
Lady Mormont’s master-at-arms came over to Brienne. “I am Ser Wylliam Pine. I was knighted by King Robert during the Greyjoy Rebellion, alongside her cousin Jorah Mormont.” He looked over to the two girls who were still fighting furiously. “I guess we will spend some time together in the future.”  
  
He held out his hand and Brienne shook it.  
  
“It seems that way," Brienne said, chuckling.  
  
Lady Sansa suddenly stood besides her and watched her sister spar.  
  
“I knew it would be a good idea to bring these two together," Sansa said, smiling. She clapped Brienne on the shoulder before she left.


	58. Sansa

Lord Royce and Lord Manderly had returned to Winterfell. Karholt had bent the knee after accepting that no one was left to help them. The Dreadfort had been burned to the ground.  
  
As soon as the ravens came, bringing the good news, Jon and Sansa had to discuss what to do with the lands, since three great and ancient houses of the North had been extinguished.  
  
Today they would celebrate the unification of the North. But first they would make their decision public regarding the lands, and Jon had suggested to make public the engagement between her and Sandor.  
  
This morning, they had told Davos and Tormund, since they were the closest to what Jon and Sansa had to a small council. Tormund had been more than excited to hear the news, nearly bursting with joy, while Davos offered her warm congratulations.  
  
Now she was sitting left of Jon at the high table. They had ordered a carpenter to make two similar chairs so no one could claim that Jon and Sansa weren’t equal, when they sat there.  
  
Arya sat left of her. She was exhausted by her daily sparring with Lyanna Mormont, so she didn’t even complain when Sansa made her wear the dress she’d had made for her.  
  
It was made out of soft grey and black wool, with two direwolves encircling the waist. Sansa had braided Arya's hair into a simple Northern braid, similar to the one she wore herself. Arya also had a small silver crown on her head indicating her status as Northern princess.  
  
When Sansa told her how pretty she looked, Arya blushed slightly at the compliment. Sansa knew that she hadn’t often heard that she was pretty when she was young. Their mother and Septa Mordane had often scolded Arya if her hair wasn’t perfect or her dress had stains, telling her to be more like Sansa. Back then, it seemed reasonable for Sansa, but today she understood how much it must have hurt Arya back then.  
  
Sansa herself wore the dress she had made during her stay at Castle Black, and Jon wore his leather tunic over a soft layer of black wool. The smith had finished their crowns this morning. Jon had one that resembled the one Robb had worn: an open bronze circle with nine spikes in shape of longswords. Sansa's crown was also an open bronze circle, but instead of swords, the front had a howling wolf.  
  
Sansa watched the crowed of lords take their seats in the great hall. Many lords had brought their families along to celebrate. Sansa saw Lord Glover with his wife at his side, and Lord Manderly sat with some girls who could only be his granddaughters. Sansa saw Lyanna Mormont come with her master-at-arms, looking as exhausted as Arya. Since the day Sansa had suggested their lessons together, the two girls had developed a kind of friendship. Sansa and Jon were happy about it. The age gap didn’t matter, since both girls had the same passion for fighting.  
  
Sansa spotted Sandor sitting next to Davos, Tormund and Brienne. Today would be the last time he would sit down there. Soon he would be sitting at her side. Sansa smiled when she saw that he wore the black wool tunic with the three direwolves that she had made for him at Castle Black. He smiled right back at her.  
  


When all the lords had found their seats, servants brought wine and ale. When all gathered people had their cups filled, Jon lifted his hand and all murmurs died.  
  
“My lords,” he began, “tonight we are here to celebrate the reunion of the North. Lord Royce has taken Karholt and the Dreadfort, and the last signs of the Boltons have been eradicated by Lord Manderly, but there is even more good news.”  
  
He stood up and turned to Arya. “Our lost sister Arya has returned to us.”  
  
The crowed started to cheer and toast towards her. Sansa had to smirk at Arya's slight flush at being in the center of attention. Jon lifted his hand and the crowd calmed down.  
  
“Queen Sansa and I have decided what will happen to the lands that formerly belonged to the Boltons, Karstarks and Umbers.”  
  
The gathered lords started to listen closely, doubtless hoping to get their share of the spoils of war.  
  
“We have decided that the lands of the Umbers and the Last Hearth will be given to the people of the freefolk to settle. Since the Dreadfort was burned to the ground, the former Bolton lands will be divided equally between the houses that stood at our side during the war of the bastards. The Bolton lands formerly belonging to House Hornwood will be returned to the current Lord Hornwood.”  
  
Lord Hornwood nodded thankfully, while the other lords nodded in agreement.  
  
“Since the Karstarks share the same blood as the Starks, their lands will return to House Stark.”  
  
Some lords exchanged short glances, and Lord Manderly stood up and yelled his agreement with a toast.  
  
“The King in the North! The Queen in the North!”  
  
The other lords agreed with that. Sansa felt relieved. That had been their first great declaration and a test of loyalty for the Northern Houses at the same time.  
  
Sansa took a sip of her spiced wine. Jon stood beside her and waited for the crowd to settle down again.  
  
“My Lords, the feast to celebrate our victory will start soon, but there is one announcement left.” Jon gave her a warm smile. “The announcement of the betrothal of Queen Sansa.”  
  
Sansa was amused by the looks the lords gave each other, probably trying to find out who her husband would be. She saw how Harrold Hardyng grinned at her with his bruised face, probably thinking Jon had accepted his official proposal he had made the day after Sandor beat him up, as compensation. He clearly looked like he was imagining ways of having his ways with her.  
  
Sansa felt heat spread in her chest at the sight of Sandor smiling at her.  
  
“My sister decided to marry one of the most loyal men I have ever seen and I gave her my blessing,” Jon continued.  
  
“And who is the lucky man?" asked Lord Cerwyn.  
  
“Sandor Clegane,” Jon simply said.  
  
“You can’t do that! Your sister is of the North. Only a northerner should have her hand" Lord Cerwyn nearly yelled.  
  
Before Jon could say anything, Lyanna Mormont had stood up. Sansa had to resist laughing at the scene of the little bear standing up against older lords again.  
  
“And who are you, Lord Cerwyn, to tell the king and queen, what they can or cannot do? Instead of questioning your queen’s decision, you should rather congratulate her. While you were hiding in your castle, my lord, Sandor Clegane fought alongside your king on the battlefield.”  
  
The lords and warriors who had fought in the battle nodded in agreement.  
  
Lyanna turned to Sansa and held up her cup. “House Mormont congratulates Her Grace, and drinks to her and her future husband’s health.”  
  
Arya chuckled next to her at the speech of her friend.  
  
Lord Manderly stood up and his booming voice filled the hall. “Sit down, my lord, and drink to your queen! The Queen in the North!”  
  
Lord Cerwyn sighed and lifted his cup. “You are right, my lord. Of course I won't judge my queen’s decision. To your and your fiancée’s health.”  
  
The hall was booming with agreement yells.  
  
Another chair was brought to the high table, and Sandor took his seat next to Sansa while servants started to bring the food so the feast could begin. Arya changed to sit on Jon's right side. Sansa welcomed Sandor with a small kiss on his cheek when he took his seat next to her.  
  
Sansa could feel the eyes of the North on her, but she couldn’t care less at this very moment. This was her moment of happiness.


	59. Sansa

Sansa was strolling through the godswood, like she did daily after hearing petitions, to clear her head. The feast yesterday had been a happy affair. With Sandor at her side, the food and wine tasted even better.  
  
In the course of the evening, every lord of the North had come to congratulate her. Sansa still laughed at the memory how Lord Cerwyn had squirmed under her icy stare when he came to apologize and congratulate her and Sandor.  
  
Lord Royce had been the first Lord of the Vale to come to her and he had told her that her father would be proud of her. Most lords of Vale had directly followed afterwards.  
  
Sansa sat down at the heart tree to wait for Sandor. She had asked him that morning if he’d like to join her. Brienne and Arya were at their fighting lesson with Lady Mormont, so Sansa was alone while she waited.  
  
She closed her eyes and listened to the rustle of the canopy of red leaves above her. Sometimes the thought the rustle sounded like voices talking to her.  
  
She heard someone come closer. She opened her eyes, expecting to see Sandor, but instead she saw the still-bruised face of Harry the Heir.  
  
Her queenly face was perfectly in place when got up, brushing snow off her dress and cloak.  
  
“Is there something you need, ser Harrold?" Sansa asked, not giving away any emotion.  
  
“You are the shame of House Stark. Marrying into enemy families twice and instead of choosing a real man like me, you take this monstrosity, a scarred, ugly brute.” He stared daggers at her.  
  
“First it's ´your grace´ for you; secondly, you don’t know anything about me or my first two marriages. Thirdly, I would choose him over you every time, my entire life. And he isn’t that ugly. He has more teeth left than you. And fourthly, leave now and I will forget your disrespect.”  
  
Sansa could see how Harry became angry and walked towards her. Sansa didn’t even flinch when he stood face to face with her.  
  
“How can you dare to talk to me that way? You are only the leftover of a dwarf and a bastard, and soon you will be nothing more than a dog's bitch.”  
  
Sansa saw his hand clench to a fist. Sansa still didn’t flinch. She had faced much worse than him.  
  
“Go on, you wouldn’t be the first man to hit me. But hit me and you won't leave the North alive. Either one of my bannermen will kill you, or my betrothed.”  
  
That only seemed to fuel his rage.  
  
“I guess it will be the latter, since he is right behind you,” Sansa said in a cold voice.  
  
Harold's eyes widened and he opened his mouth to say something, but before he could say a word, Sandor’s dagger was already pressed against his throat.  
  
“What is the meaning of this?" Sandor asked in his rough voice. Sansa knew that he was aware exactly what was going on, and was only asking for permission to kill him in a subtle way.  
  
Sansa smirked at Harry. “Ser Harold just asked permission to return to the Vale immediately, since the cold temperature doesn’t agree with him.”  
  
“Is that so?" Sandor asked, pressing the blade tighter to Harry's throat.  
  
“Yes, I was just on the way to the stables to prepare my horse," Harry muttered through his broken teeth.  
  
“Well, then, better be quick about it, since winter is here.”  
  
Sandor moved his blade away and Harrold walked off as fast as he could.  
  
“Are you alright, little bird?," Sandor asked concerned, while putting a strand of her hair behind her ear. “You should have let me kill him.”  
  
“I am alright. He is just an arrogant prick. No need to trouble yourself. I will have a small talk later with Lord Reed, and Harold will never reach the other side of the Neck.”  
  
Sandor grinned at her while Sansa flung her arms around his neck and pressed a kiss to his lips.  
  
Sansa linked her arm with his, to start their stroll.


	60. Jon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one

Jon sat at the table in their solar, looking over the letters and raven scrolls that had arrived this morning.  
  
One letter was sealed with a mockingbird. He would give it to Sansa later. Jon really was interested in the letter that had come from Castle Black. Jon broke the seal and started to read.  
  
“ _To His Grace, King Jon. Sent scouts north from Castle Black, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, and the Shadow Tower. Write as soon as I get reports._  
_Eddison Tollett, 999th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch_.”  
  
Jon was happy that Edd had been elected. He needed someone he could trust as Lord Commander for the upcoming battles against the Night's King.  
  
He looked through the other letters. One had the sigil of House Waynwood, a broken black wheel on a green field. Some came from Northern houses, but one letter stood out, with its seal showing the Lannister lion: probably Cersei's answer to the letter he and Sansa had written a few weeks ago. Soon after Brienne had returned, a letter addressed to Roose Bolton had arrived from King's Landing informing him of the coronation of Cersei Lannister as Queen of Westeros.  
  
Sansa had convinced Jon that they had no choice but to send an answer. Sansa had said that Cersei would find out sooner or later that Winterfell was back in Stark hands, anyway. Sansa wanted to use that chance to reveal how Littlefinger had sided with the Starks. Sansa said in this way he could not easily return to Cersei's side, and it would hopefully lead Cersei to make irrational decisions.  
  
Jon hoped Sansa was right.


	61. Sansa

Sansa had just finished the answer she wanted to send to Anya Waynwood, telling her she had no idea why Harrold Hardyng hadn’t returned to the Vale as planned. Sansa smirked at the thought that Harry was rotting somewhere in the Neck at that very moment. Howland Reed had been more than eager to help the daughter of his old friend. He had made sure Harry would never reach the other side of the Neck alive.  
  
She had handed the letter to Jon to sign and seal it, when she already broke open the letter Cersei had sent.  
  
It was obvious that Cersei had gone mad. She wrote that Sansa would regret the day she had decided to take part in the murder of Joffrey and that she would be begging for the kiss of the Stranger before she would be done with her. Sansa laughed at this threat. Sansa knew Cersei didn’t have the resources to fight the North with the Tyrells and Martells on her doorstep. She didn’t pay any more attention to Cersei's empty threats. Cersei was alone and had no allies left. The Lannisters would be alone in this war.  
  
Petyr’s letter was interesting. He wrote her that Cersei had apparently heard that he had betrayed her and was now demanding his head. It seemed he had bigger plans with Harrold Hardyng since he was writing that it was most unfortunate that he had disappeared.  
  
As heir of her sickly cousin Robin, Petyr had probably planned to arrange a useful marriage for Harry. Petyr probably would have married Sansa to him, if his plan to rescue her from Ramsay's clutches would have worked. And sooner or later, Petyr would have made Harry himself disappear, so he could have Sansa for himself, but in the meantime Harry would have done with her whatever he liked.  
  
Now, Petyr had to rework his plan. He had apparently managed to forge an alliance between the Vale and the Martells with the betrothal of Sweetrobin with Elia Sand, one of Oberyn Martells daughters. Petyr wrote about how he wanted to make sure the Vale stood on the right side when Daenerys Targaryen returned. Petyr had heard from trustworthy sources that she was already on her way to Westeros, planning to land in Dorne.  
  
He didn’t mention her betrothal to Sandor, but Sansa was sure he was informed about everything that happened in Winterfell. Petyr probably hoped she would suddenly see her mistake and marry him instead, but that would never happen.  
  
Sansa tore it apart before throwing it into the fire roaring in the fireplace.


	62. Jon

Jon was looking for Sansa. Another letter from Castle Black had arrived and Jon had to urgent matters to discuss with her.  
  
He walked into the great hall looking for her. The hall was empty except for Tormund and Sandor Clegane having their lunch. It seemed they wanted to find out who could eat more chickens, since the pile of bones next to them had to be at least six chickens’ worth.  
  
Tormund was waving him over, grinning, while some of the fat ran down his beard.  
  
“Your Grace, come and join us," Tormund said in an amused tone, tearing another chicken apart.  
  
“Maybe later.” Jon turned to Sandor. “Have you an idea where I could find your betrothed?”  
  
Clegane threw another bone on the pile. “She is in the training yard with your sister and the bear cub. Is everything alright?”  
  
“Yes, a letter arrived and I have to discuss it with Sansa.”  
  
A servant came and brought another pair of chickens.  
  
“Well, then, I will leave you to your lunch," Jon said, chuckling at seeing how eagerly both men grabbed the fresh chickens.

When he entered the courtyard, Arya could be heard cursing loudly. When Jon came closer, he saw Arya standing above Lyanna Mormont, holding out one hand to help her up from the mud.  
  
Jon saw Sansa standing with Brienne and Ser Wylliam. Jon had to chuckle when he saw that Lady Mormont’s master-at-arms handed Brienne some coins. They were obviously betting which of their girls would win.  
  
Sansa turned around at hearing his chuckling and seemed a bit surprised to see him. “Jon, good to see you. Where is Sandor?”  
  
Jon had to laugh. “He and Tormund are thinning out our chicken population in the great hall.” He leaned down to her ear and whispered. “A letter came from Castle Black. We need to talk.”  
  
Sansa gave him a concerned look, but nodded. They excused themselves and went straight to their solar.  
  
When they entered their solar, they sat down in their cushioned chairs at the fire like they always did when they had to discuss something.  
  
“So, Jon, what do we need to discuss?" Sansa asked.  
  
“Edd sent me a letter. He reports that the White Walkers have been spotted just a bit more than one month north of the Wall.”  
  
Sansa nodded with a concerned look. “How do we proceed Jon?" she asked.  
  
“I want to march as soon as possible to the Wall, to have the chance to build some kind of defense. Howland Reed will defend the Neck at Moat Cailin against anything that might come from the south.”  
  
“I see," Sansa said.  
  
“And there is something else. I know it's uncommon that betrothed marry so soon, but I would like to ask you if you marry as soon as all our bannermen are gathered here with their armies, so I can ride to the Wall the next day, knowing you and Winterfell are in good hands. I know I ask a lot of you, and there won’t be much time for preparations…”  
  
Jon hated that these words felt on his tongue, like he was commanding Sansa to marry. The whole time he spoke, he hadn’t had the heart to look at Sansa. When Jon lifted his eyes, he saw that Sansa was smiling widely.  
  
“Jon," she began, “I will happily marry that soon. And don’t worry about the feast. After all, I don’t marry for the feast, but for the man that will become my husband.”  
  
Jon felt a load being lifted of his heart at her words.  
  
Sansa walked over to the table and grabbed a piece of parchment and started to write a letter.  
  
“To whom are you writing?" Jon asked curious.  
  
“Lord Manderly. If Sandor and Tormund really wolf down every chicken in Winterfell, like you told me, I’d better ask Lord Manderly to bring some with him for the wedding.”  
  
Both siblings started to laugh openly.


	63. Sansa

Sansa held onto Sandor’s arm while strolling through the godswood.  
  
Every time they walked together, Sansa showed him other parts of Winterfell he hasn’t really seen yet and told him stories of her childhood.  
  
Today she walked with him to the glass gardens. During the sack of Winterfell they had been destroyed by Ramsay's men, but now they were nearly repaired. Some windows were still missing, but Lord Manderly had written he would bring some new ones along when he came for the wedding. Apparently a merchant from Myr had anchored in White Harbor loaded with all kinds of exotic spices, fabrics and fine colored glass. Soon they could start to plant vegetables for the winter.  
  
Sandor always liked to listen to her stories.  
  
“One day, I was sitting in one of the glass gardens, braiding a crown of blue winter roses, when Arya tried to put a bug in my dress. I desperately tried to run away, but I tripped over my skirts and fell into the mud.”  
  
Sandor laughed lightly. Sansa faked annoyance and hit his arm lightly.  
  
“That’s not funny. I was covered in mud from head to toe, and my favorite dress was completely ruined. It took me weeks to complete it. I was so angry at her that I pulled out a beet from its bedding and threw it at her. She barely managed to dodge it, but that made her trip, herself.”  
  
Sansa had to laugh at the memory.  
  
“Gods, the scolding we got from our mother and septa still rings in my ears.”  
  
“I can imagine," Sandor said, amused. “I only remember that your septa always behaved like she had a stick in her holy ass.”  
  
“Besides the feast at my fathers tourney in King's Landing, where she passed out drunk and Joffrey ordered you to escort me back to the keep.”  
  
“Aye, I remember. I tried to scare you during the walk.”  
  
“And you told me about your scars, my love.” Sansa caressed his burned cheek and pulled him down into a kiss. “I still never told anyone about it.”  
  
“I knew you wouldn’t.”  
  
Sansa led him on his arm back to the godswood entrance.  
  
“What did your brother want from you yesterday, little bird?”  
  
“He wanted to ask me if it would be alright to marry as soon as possible, against the traditions so shortly after a betrothal. I told him it would be alright, since the White Walkers are barely a month away from the Wall. It would probably be within a fortnight.”  
  
“Of course it’s alright, Sansa. I would marry you on every hour of every day for the rest of my life,” he told her, grinning.  
  
Sansa felt her heart flutter at that declaration. “Have you been in the crypts before?," Sansa asked him.  
  
“No. That place is for your family.”  
  
“It will be your family, too, soon.”  
  
Sansa led him to the crypt entrance and they walked down the stairs till they reached the floor on which the graves for her father, brother, uncle and aunt and grandfather were. Sansa and Jon had also made sure that a grave for Robb and her mother had been erected, even if their bones were still missing.

They stopped in front of her father's grave and Sansa lit a candle.  
  
“What would your parents say, if they could see you know?” Sandor asked.  
  
Sansa leaned her head against him.  
  
“Father would probably be happy, since he would see that you are everything he wanted for me. Mother, on the other hand, would probably give you a hard time. She always told me she wanted a handsome lord or knight for me, but by now I believe she would have married me off to the highest bidder without a single concern for my feelings. If I had returned to her during the war, I would probably have ended with a Mallister, Blackwood or even a Frey to secure the alliances of my brother at the Trident, or they would have sent me north to marry an Umber, Manderly or maybe even Ramsay, so Lord Bolton wouldn’t have changed his alliance.”  
  
Sansa sighed. “It's hard to admit, but for my mother and Robb, I would only have been a pawn, to strengthen his kingdom, with my maidenhead and a bloody sheet to seal a deal for him. If he had really loved me, he would have exchanged me for the Kingslayer. He had him as prisoner for more than a year and he never even considered it once. Instead he played king with his foreign queen, not wasting a thought for my fate.”

  


Sandor pulled her into an embrace. “You can’t know that, Sansa. Your brother and mother loved you. Maybe they tried, but the Lannisters didn’t agree.”  
  
“I know it, Sandor. Ramsay told me one night, that his father had told him how Robb had always denied the Lannister offers for an exchange during the war councils. It doesn’t matter now. My brother and mother are dead. If Mother accepted Robb choosing his wife, I say I am as free in choosing my husband. And I have chosen.”  
  
Sansa felt how he kissed the crown of her hair. Sandor always did that, when she was overtaken by dark thoughts. And he always managed to fend them off with that.  
  
“Sandor, do you want children?” Sansa was nervous about this question. Sandor had never even mentioned his opinion on this topic, but Winterfell and the North would need an heir.  
  
“I never expected to have a wife, so children were never an option,” Sandor said. “But you are the only person I would ever consider to be the mother of my children, little bird.”  
  
“As you are the only one I want as their father,” Sansa said, smiling. Sansa grabbed his arm and led him back to the crypt entrance. “I have heard that because of you there are no chickens left in Winterfell.”  
  
Their laugh echoed through the crypt while they started to climb up the stairs to the surface.


	64. Sandor

Today Lord Manderly would arrive for Sandor’s and Sansa's wedding. Sansa had told Sandor that Lord Manderly would bring carts with all kinds of food and wine. Sandor hoped he would find a barrel of Dornish sour red, too.  
  
There were a few hours left before Manderly would arrive, and Sandor wanted to use that time to spar. Sansa had shooed him away so she could work on her wedding dress without being disturbed.  
  
Sandor was just looking after his horse before heading to the training yard.  
  
“I knew I would find you here," Arya said from behind him.  
  
“What can I do for you, little wolf?" Sandor asked. Since Sansa’s sister had returned, he still hadn’t really seen her alone, apart from her short visit to tell him she didn’t want him dead anymore.  
  
“I thought you might look for a sparring partner, Sandor,” she simply said.  
  
“Since when am I Sandor to you?" Sandor asked, slightly amused. He had only been Clegane for her, or Hound.  
  
“You aren’t the Hound anymore, and Clegane sounds a bit strange, since you are to become my brother-in-law in just a few days. And you don’t call me wolfbitch anymore, so I guess I should try to call you by your name, too.”  
  
Sandor chuckled. “If Sansa heard that I called you wolfbitch once, she would might throw a beet after me.”  
  
Arya started to grin. “She told you?”  
  
“Of course she told me. So why are you here? Doesn’t want the bear cub to fight with you anymore?”  
  
“She has lessons with her maester, and Brienne was practicing with Podrick when that red-bearded Wilding came and Brienne fled as fast as she could. I haven’t seen her since.”  
  
Sandor had to laugh. “Yes, Tormund has fallen for her.”  
  
“Yes. I never thought I could find a stranger couple than you and Sansa until I recognized these two.”  
  
“Well, I guess you are right about that. Let's go sparring.”  
  
They went to the training yard. Since a cold wind was blowing that day, they were alone.  
  
“So you are fine with me marrying your sister after all?" Sandor asked while they circled each other, testing the defense of their opponent.  
  
“I am. At first I thought I could only tolerate you at her side, but now I see how deeply you feel for each other. I sometimes hear her muffled screams during the night. I asked her once, but she only told she has nightmares.”  
  
“I know," Sandor said sadly. “Her time with the Bolton bastard is still haunting her.”  
  
Sandor knew Sansa still had nightmares. Every day he saw how tired she was in the morning.  
  
Arya just nodded. “I hope the nightmares will end someday.”  
  
“That’s what I hope too.”  
  
“So when will you marry, exactly?" Arya asked while she tried to disarm him.  
  
“In three days. Fat Lord Manderly arrives later today, and tomorrow arrive the other lords. By then, the workers should have finished the new room.”  
  
Sansa and Jon had arranged that her mother’s and father’s room would be prepared for her and Sandor, while one of Lady Catelyn's sitting rooms was converted into an adequate bedroom for Jon. Until then Sansa and Jon stayed in the rooms they lived in as children.  
  
At least not the room the bastard had locked her in, Sandor thought to himself.  
  
“You know that you’ll be marrying on Sansa’s nameday, don’t you?”  
  
Sandor was surprised. He felt like a fool he hadn’t known.  
  
Arya seemed to sense his ignorance and just shook her head laughing.  
  
“Gods, Sandor," she said accusingly, “you marry her on the day she turns eight and ten, and you didn’t even know it. She probably chose that day on purpose.”  
  
They sparred for a while, until a guard blew the horn to inform the castle that Lord Manderly's baggage train had been spotted.  
  
He and Arya walked back to the keep to wash and change their clothes. Before Arya took the corridor to her room, she turned to him.  
  
“Thank you for sparring with me. And Sandor, better think on a nice present for her, or I might tell her you called me a wolf bitch.”  
  
Both had to laugh at that while leaving for their rooms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pray for chapter 75 which has to be rewritten by me, since i accidently deleted it "-.-


	65. Arya

“Men,“ Arya thought to herself, rolling her eyes while she waited next to Jon for the arrival of Lord Manderly and his entourage. How in the seven hells could Sandor have not known that he would marry on Sansa’s nameday?  
  
Arya's thoughts were interrupted when Lord Manderly's wheelhouse rumbled through the gates followed by two dozen carts loaded with all kinds of stuff.  
  
Lord Manderly climbed out of the wheelhouse followed by his eldest son. They walked over to Sansa and Jon and knelt down to show their respect. Arya had to admit that her siblings looked every bit like a king and queen.  
  
Arya didn’t listen to exchange of pleasantries. Instead, she watched the people who had traveled with Lord Manderly.  
  
Most of them were just simple servants or knights in service of House Manderly. Her eyes finally landed on a black-haired man who tried to hide behind another man. She couldn’t really see his face.  
  
She saw how Davos walked over to him and hugged him like a long-lost friend. She had a blink of an eye to see his face.  
  
“Gendry?" Arya blurted out.  
  
Sansa, Jon and Lord Manderly turned their attention to her.  
  
“What?" Jon asked, while waving Davos with Gendry over to them.  
  
“He’s a friend of mine. He was with me in Harrenhal, and later with the Brotherhood, until they sold him to the red woman.”  
  
Sandor confirmed that he has been with Arya while he was prisoner of the Brotherhood.  
  
“Who are you, boy?" Lord Manderly asked. “It seems you aren’t who you told us you are.”  
  
Davos spoke up and told them that Gendry was one of Robert Baratheon’s bastards and that Stannis had held him prisoner until Davos had freed him.  
  
Arya wanted to start peppering Gendry with questions what had happened to him when Sansa spoke up.  
  
“Well, Gendry, if you are a friend of my sister, you will have a place at our table and under our roof. We can have dinner tonight, so you can tell us about the journey that brought you here.”  
  
Gendry bowed. “It would be an honor to dine with her grace.”  
  
Sansa gave him a sweet smile and walked into the keep with Lord Manderly and Jon.


	66. Sansa

Sansa was very interested in the young man who had come with Lord Manderly, a bastard of Robert Baratheon. Sansa couldn’t deny that he really looked like a younger and stronger version of Renly.  
  
Her interest in that young man was further fueled by the fact that Arya had asked her to choose a dress and braid her hair, since she never had a talent for it. It seemed like Arya wanted to look especially pretty for the young man.  
  
The girls and Gendry would dine in their solar. Jon would dine with Lord Manderly and the other guests in the great hall.  
  
Sansa had just finished braiding her own hair when someone knocked on the door. Sansa opened the door and Sandor awaited her, smiling. He offered her his arm and Sansa took it.  
  
“So you met him before," Sansa asked him.  
  
“I didn’t really meet him. It is more accurate that I only saw him with her, but he kept her from killing me after my trial fight with Beric Dondarrion.”  
  
“So I should probably thank him for keeping you alive," Sansa said teasingly.  
  
Sandor only huffed as answer.  
  
They reached their solar and Arya and Gendry were already awaiting them. They entered the room and took their seats at the large table that had been brought to the room. Arya sat next to Gendry on the opposite side of the table. Sansa didn’t miss the slight blush heating Arya’s cheeks when Gendry pulled her chair out. Gendry himself seemed a bit lost at words when he eyed Arya from head to toe.  
  
Sansa shot Sandor a short glance and saw that he also watched the scene playing out right in front of them, amused.  
  
“So, Gendry," Sansa began when they all had finally found their places, “Arya said you were her friend during her travel through the Riverlands.”  
  
“I was, Your Grace. Arya… I mean, the princess actually saved my life in Harrenhal.”  
  
“Stop calling me princess,” Arya scolded him, and hit his arm lightly.  
  
Gendry obviously felt pretty nervous to be in her and Arya's presences, probably thinking herself unworthy of them.  
  
“I see. Since you are a friend of my sister, you may call me Lady Sansa. And may I introduce you to my fiancé, Sandor Clegane?”  
  
“It is surprising for me to see you here, my lord. I heard you died.”  
  
“That’s a long story.”  
  
Servants brought all kinds of food: fresh bread still steaming from the oven, honey glazed partridges with buttered carrots and peas, roasted boar with onions in gravy.  
  
Sansa had told the cooks to save the chickens Lord Manderly had brought with him for the wedding feast. She also had given orders to save the Dornish sour. Sansa wanted both to be surprises for Sandor.  
  
Sandor was telling what had happened to him after the Brotherhood had released him. Sansa listened while she drank her cup of Arbor gold. It had been ages since she had tasted its soft flavor and sweetness.  
  
Sandor had just reached the part of the story when he had heard Sansa was riding north back to Winterfell and she knew now it was her turn to talk, but instead Sansa changed the topic to Gendry.  
  
“Arya said the Brotherhood sold you to the red woman?”  
  
“Yes, they did." He looked down on his plate. Sansa knew too well how it felt to be sold off.  
  
“The red woman brought me to Dragonstone, where I met King Stannis. The red woman had already told me that I was one of late King Robert's bastards. The first treated me good, gave me food, a warm bed, until the red woman started to use leeches on me to get my blood for some blood magic ritual. He threw three leeches in the fire, saying the name of people he wanted dead. King Joffrey, some Greyjoy and your brother Robb. Later that night, Ser Davos freed me and sent me away with in row boat.”  
  
“And how did you end up with that merchant from Myr?" Arya asked, her mouth full of boar.  
  
“Davos told me to row back to King's Landing, since the Gold Cloaks didn’t know my face, but I had never been on a boat so I got completely lost at sea. After four days, that merchant found me and saved me. He told me he’d just come from King's Landing and was heading back to Myr. I thought Myr would be better than King's Landing, so I stayed and did all kind of metal work on his ship. We traveled to Tyrosh and Lys and then to Braavos, with a stop for half a year in Pentos.”  
  
He took a deep gulp of his cup before he continued.  
  
“In Braavos, the captain heard that winter had officially arrived and he thought he could make a good deal bringing supplies to White Harbor. When we reached the city, I heard of the war and that the Starks were back in Winterfell, and I decided to make a change. I didn’t know what I hoped for, but Arya always told me you were decent people, so I hoped I could work here. I am not built for a life as a seaman.”  
  
“Of course you can stay here. You can work at the forge," Arya immediately said, then she realized it wasn’t her call to make, so she continued a bit shyly. “Sansa, he is a really good smith. He can make weapons, armors, things we need for the castle, or… or… he can fight… and…”  
  
Sansa was amused to see Arya desperately search for more reasons to convince her to let Gendry stay. Sansa heard Sandor chuckle slightly next to her while he drank his cup of ale.  
  
“I will talk to Jon about it, but I have no problem with him staying, if that’s what he wants.”  
  
Arya's head snapped to Gendry, awaiting an answer.  
  
“I would be happy to stay, my lady.”  
  
Sansa drank another cup of Arbor gold and saw Arya smile widely as she held her own cup to her lips.


	67. Sandor

It was nearly the hour of the wolf when dinner ended. Arya went straight back to her room, and Gendry departed to the rooms he had been given.  
  
Since the snowfall had stopped during the evening and the moon lit the North, Sansa asked Sandor if he would like to stroll in the godswood for a while.  
  
Sandor was never much a stroller, but with Sansa it was always a pleasure to walk in the snow and leave paths through the godswood. Every time, Sansa showed him another part of it, but their strolls always ended at the large weirwood she held so dear.  
  
Sandor had to chuckle at Sansa being a bit tipsy from the few cups of Arbor gold she had had. She wasn’t really drunk, but she couldn’t contain her giggling and slurred a bit while talking.  
  
“Have you seen Arya’s shy looks at Gendry, when she thought nobody was looking?” Sansa giggled while holding onto his arm during her walk back to her room.  
  
Sandor had to hold back a laugh at that memory. The whole evening, Arya and Gendry had exchanged short glances, and every time they had seen that Sandor eyed them, they quickly cast down their eyes.  
  
“And how cute she looked with her braided hair, when she looked for reasons to convince me to allow him to stay.”  
  
Sandor laughed lightly at the way his wife-to-be giggled, like she was sharing gossip with one of her friends from childhood.  
  
“What are you laughing at?" Sansa asked him, amused and smiling brightly.  
  
“At you being a bit in your cups, from your Arbor gold.”  
  
“I am not drunk. I am not even tipsy,” she said with a pout. Sandor raised an eyebrow and Sansa broke into giggles.  
  
“If you say so, little bird," Sandor said teasingly. “So will you allow him to stay in Winterfell?" he asked.  
  
“Yes, I don’t see why not. He seems to be a nice young man.”  
  
Sansa gestured for him to come closer when they had finally reached the door to her room.  
  
“And they look cute together. Like a younger version of my Aunt Lyanna and Robert Baratheon," she whispered into his ear before giggling.  
  
“Let’s hope that ends better than the last time," Sandor said ironically.  
  
Sansa tapped on his chest with her finger, laughing. “That was so funny," Sansa said, grinning.  
  
She pulled him down into a kiss and he tasted the sweet flavor of the wine on her lips. Sansa parted her lips and their tongues fought for dominance in her mouth.  
  
Sansa stroked her finger through his beard and her lips left his.  
  
“Your beard is so fluffy, my love," she mused, love-drunk, while she opened her door.  
  
“Sleep well, little bird. The North needs you well-rested tomorrow,” Sandor said while Sansa flung her arms around his neck for a last good night kiss.  
  
Arya’s door opened and she looked at them, half-asleep.  
  
“Could you two lovebirds be a bit quieter? Some people are trying to sleep.”  
  
She closed her door and Sandor looked at Sansa, who tried to hold back her giggling. She gave him another quick peck on his cheek before closing the door.


	68. Sandor

Tomorrow Sandor would marry Sansa in the eyes of the old gods.  
  
Sansa was talking to Jon in their solar about Gendry, and Sandor decided it would be a good time to check on the progress the smith had made with the present Sandor had ordered: a silver direwolf necklace. Sandor hoped she would like it.  
  
When he reached the forge, he saw that Arya was talking to Gendry, who was busy keeping the fire blazing. When Arya saw that he was coming over, he heard her mutter that Lyanna Mormont was waiting for her and she left. Gendry returned to his work.  
  
The smith showed Sandor the progress on the necklace. It was nearly finished, and Sandor nodded approval.  
  
Gendry had pulled off his tunic and was forging on a sword, not caring for the temperatures outside the forge. The sweet was running down his muscular back and his hair was clinging to his forehead.  
  
“Gendry, I saw that you spoke to the princess,” Sandor began.  
  
Gendry gave him a panicked look. “My Lord, she came here. I didn’t do anything. I… I…”  
  
Sandor chuckled. Gendry probably thought he would be punished for being so familiar with the princess of the North.  
  
“Calm yourself, boy, no harm done.”  
  
Gendry slightly relaxed.  
  
“Queen Sansa didn’t miss the small glances you gave her sister during dinner yesterday.”  
  
“I am sorry, m'lord, I didn’t want to cross a line. I will keep my distance.”  
  
“No, on the contrary. You are Arya’s friend, and her sister is fine with that, but it would make her very upset if you didn’t treat Arya well, as she deserves. And if the woman I love is upset, I am upset and you wouldn’t want that, wouldn’t you?”  
  
Gendry gulped. “No, I wouldn’t. I would never hurt her.”  
  
Sandor clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Should I ever hear that you lay hand on Arya in the wrong way, I promise you I will break every bone in that hand," Sandor said with a serious face.  
  
Sandor had to laugh at how all color left Gendry's face. “Calm yourself. You seem to be a good lad, so your hands will be fine, I think.”  
  
He gave him another clap on the back and then left him to his work.  


  
In the evening, Jon, Tormund, Davos, and Podrick had organized a small stag party for him. Brienne also attended against the tradition, because Sansa didn’t have a hen´s night. She just spent the evening with her sister.  
  
It wasn’t a big affair, but it was nice to share wine with these people he valued as the closest thing her ever had considered as friends.  
  
“Nervous about the great day tomorrow?" Tormund asked him handing over the wineskin.  
  
“I would be lying if I said I wasn’t," Sandor said, taking a gulp.  
  
“I was nervous myself, when I married my Marya," Davos said.  
  
“You don’t have any reasons to be nervous," Brienne said. “Sansa trusts you completely with everything, and loves you deeply.”  
  
It was true. He was still the only one that knew everything about her time with the Boltons.  
  
“Aye, I am the most fortunate man in Westeros. She trusts me with her darkest memories, as I trust her with mine.”  
  
Everybody looked down to the ground, exactly knowing what memories he referred to: the memories Sansa always avoided in conversations.  
  
“You will be good to her, won't you?" Jon asked, but he asked just because he felt it was his duty as brother to ask.  
  
“Every hour of every day, for the rest of my life,” Sandor said. He would be the man Sansa deserved at her side.  
  
Jon nodded in approval.  
  
The atmosphere lightened up after that and Davos some stories of his time as a smuggler. Nearly at the hour of the wolf the group split up, and Sandor walked back to his room as an unmarried man for the last time.


	69. Arya

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The great day you all have waited for is finally here so YAAAAY :D

Today was Sansa’s eighteenth nameday and the day she would marry for the third time. Jon had told her this morning that Sansa had convinced him the day before, to let Gendry stay in Winterfell. Arya had flung herself into his arms and thanked him furiously, and asked if he could also attend at the wedding feast. Jon had allowed it, if Arya would help Sansa with the last preparations and dressing for the wedding, since she hadn’t any maids to help her. Arya would have helped her anyway.  
Sansa had asked her yesterday if she wanted to spend the evening with her, since she didn’t have a hen´s night.  
  
It was nice to spend time with Sansa alone. They had dinner in Sansa's solar and shared memories about their childhood. Sansa even told her more detailed of her time in King's Landing, and how her first marriage came about; how the Tyrells and Lannisters wanted to get their hands on Winterfell through her.  
  
Arya in return told of her journey with Gendry and Hot Pie. When it got late, Sansa thanked her for the wonderful evening, and Arya felt a pang of sadness in her heart that she had spent so many years not knowing what nice person her sister really was. Arya suddenly saw that Sansa hadn’t been that mean to her during her childhood, and had even tried to help her. Arya thought her father would be proud of them, now that they were threatening each other like sisters should.

Arya knocked on Sansa's door and it opened a crack. Arya stared into the blue eyes of her sister.  
  
“Ohh, Arya, what are you doing here?" Sansa asked her a bit surprised.  
  
“I thought I might could help you with your preparations. You know, help you to bathe, dress, and help to do your hair.”  
  
Sansa smiled at her. “I would like that,” she said, and opened the door more so Arya could enter.  
  
“And maybe you could braid my hair in return?" Arya asked shyly.  
  
Arya had never really cared about her hair and how she dressed. Her mother and Septa Mordane had always scolded her for every stain on her dress, or when her braid got loose. She always felt ugly next to Sansa, who was praised by everyone. Arya still remembered how often she had cried in her hiding places, when Jeyne Poole had been teasing her for her lack of sewing skills or called her horseface. Sansa had done it too, but most of the time only when Arya had been teasing her herself.  
  
When Sansa had had her put on a dress and braid her hair for the feast celebrating her return and announcing Sansa's marriage, Arya had felt like a fool after years of wearing dirty rags or breeches. She suddenly felt like a little girl again, and expected the teasing to start all over again, but when Sansa told her she looked pretty it made Arya's heart swell, to hear that from her sister.  
  
Arya had feared Sansa would continue their mother’s attempts to make Arya into a Southern lady, but instead Sansa had made her a new pair of breeches for her daily training with Lyanna Mormont.  
  
Arya couldn’t claim she was totally fine with wearing dresses, but for special occasions like dinner, feasts, or the wedding of her elder sister, she was fine with it.  
  
“Of course I will braid your hair,” Sansa said, smiling warmly, and Arya could only wonder about how different Sansa was from the girl she had once been. The old Sansa would have demanded the day be completely about her.  
  
Sansa gestured to the table in her room. Plates with bread, bacon, eggs, and sausages stood on the table alongside bowls of butter, honey, and jam. A still-steaming pot of tea exuded the smell of mint into the room.  
  
“Come break your fast with me, while we wait for the servants to bring the tub and hot water,” Sansa said, smiling and taking her seat at the table.  
  
Arya took her place on the opposite side of the table and Sansa poured both of them a cup of tea while two servants brought in a large copper tub.  
  
“Happy nameday," Arya said, placing a small bundle in front of Sansa, who looked surprised.  
  
“Ohh, I didn’t think anyone would actually remember! In King's Landing, I wasn’t allowed to mention my nameday at all," Sansa said with a hint of sadness in her voice. “What is that?" she asked, poking the bundle curiously.  
  
“Sandor gave it to me earlier. It’s a nameday present from him for you. Since he will not see you until the ceremony, he asked me to give it to you.”  
  
Sansa carefully untied the silk ribbon that tied the bundle, which turned out to be a beautifully-crafted silver direwolf necklace. Arya could see that Sansa was speechless by the gift.  
  
“Are you nervous?" Arya asked, when the servants had left the room to get the hot water.  
  
Sansa took a sip of her tea. “A little, but far less, thanks to the better company this time. In King's Landing, Cersei was my only company on the morning of the wedding to Tyrion, besides the maids she had spy on me. But she was only there to take delight in my anxiety, and taunt me, and fill my head with scary stories about her brother. Back then, I wished mother and you would be there. I am glad that you are here with me this morning.” Sansa smiled warmly at her.  
  
“That goes without saying, Sansa.”  
  
They ate in silence, while the maids filled the tub.  
  
“Your Grace, we could serve as maids for you," one of the servants said when the tub was filled with hot water.  
  
“That won't be necessary," Sansa said. “My sister will attend to me.”  
  
The servants bowed and left the room.  
  
“Could you please lock the door?" Sansa asked and Arya locked the door.  
  
When Arya turned around, Sansa was just loosening her nightgown. Sansa let it slip down her shoulders and the gown pooled around her feet.  
  
Sansa let her slender body slide into the water and Arya knelt down beside the tub. Arya couldn’t deny that Sansa had grown into a beautiful woman, far more pretty than their mother had been, even. Sansa dove under to wet her hair.  
  
When Sansa came back up, Arya poured some lavender oil into the water. Sansa sighed at the smell surrounding them.  
  
“You remember when Old Nan bathed us together, when we were young?" Sansa asked.  
  
Arya had to chuckle at the memory. “Yes, I do. Nan often had to scrub me so hard to get off all the dirt that I thought she’d flay me.”  
  
Sansa laughed lightly, but Arya regretted her words as soon as they had left her mouth. Sansa had told her that the bastard had hurt her, but Arya didn’t want to bring the memories back to Sansa by mentioning flaying.  
  
Sansa leaned forward so Arya could scrub her back. Arya was relieved when she saw Sansa's back. Sansa had told her about the beatings she got in King's Landing every time Robb won a battle, or when Joffrey was just in the mood for it. Arya had feared that she would find her sister scarred all over, but she was relieved when she only saw wet ivory skin. Only a few marks, that must have once been welts, interrupted her otherwise-smooth skin. Arya frowned when she saw a mark that could only have been a bite mark.  
  
Arya touched Sansa lightly on her shoulder and she settled back against the tub with a relaxed smile playing around her lips.  
  
Arya grabbed the pitcher with clean, warm water and started to wash Sansa's auburn hair, massaging her scalp carefully.  
  
“That feels good." Sansa sighed happily with closed eyes. “That’s so much better than the time Ramsay's bed-warmer washed my hair.”  
  
Sansa must have felt Arya stop for a short moment in her movement, so she continued.  
  
“On the day of the wedding, Ramsay's bed-warmer showed up to make me ready for him. She was a jealous bitch and told me all kinds of scary stories about Ramsay in order to keep his favor.”  
  
Sansa rubbed her face with her hands. “Not that it mattered anyway, for Ramsay. I was just a juicy new toy to make an heir.”  
  
Arya eyes the faded bite mark and could only imagine what else that sick bastard had done to her.  
  
“Don’t think about that, Sansa. Today is your day.”  
  
Sansa smiled up to her. “I am glad I have my sister with me on this day," Sansa said.  
  
When Sansa stepped out of the tub, Arya awaited her with a large towel and helped her dry herself.  
  
Arya had no idea when Sansa did all the sewing, but she had managed to sew her wedding dress, a new tunic for Sandor, and a completely new dress for Arya.  
  
Arya helped her into her dress and laced up its back.  
  
“Jon said it was alright if Gendry could come to the feast. Jon said he would be fine with it, but should have asked you first," Arya said, tying the last laces.  
  
“Of course I am fine with it. He seems to be a good lad,” Sansa told her, and Arya felt relieved.  
  
Sansa helped Arya into her new dress in return, and asked her how she would like her hair to be braided. Arya said she wanted a simple braid, since she didn’t want to outshine the bride. Sansa braided her hair into a pretty Northern braid.  
  
After she finished, they changed places at the dressing table and Arya started to brush Sansa's still-damp hair until it shone.  
  
“Mother used to brush out my hair often, in the evening," Sansa said. “She always used that time to tell me all those stupid stories about knights and chivalry. She filled my head with stupid dreams that only led to sorrow.”  
  
“Mother used to brush my hair too, but she only complained how I managed to get that many knots into my hair.”  
  
Both girls had to laugh at that.  
  
Arya did her best to braid Sansa's hair with help of Sansa's instructions and sometimes her helping hand. In the end, when Arya was happy with the result and Sansa nodded widely smiling, Sansa embraced her tightly and thanked her for helping her.  
  
Somebody knocked on the door and Arya unlocked it. Jon waited on the other side. He wore a black wool tunic under his light leather armor. The cloak Sansa had made for him hung around his shoulders. He looked like a younger version of Father, Arya thought. He even wears his hair in the same way Father did.  
  
Jon would escort Sansa down the path to the weirwood. Jon offered her his arm.  
  
“Wait,” Arya said before Sansa could take it.  
  
Arya took the necklace off the table where Sansa had left it and fastened it around her neck. Sansa gave her a kiss on the cheek, thanking her again.  
  
She grabbed Jon's arm, smiling, and let him lead the way to the godswood where Sandor and the other guests already awaited them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next pov Sandor


	70. Sandor

Sandor had never expected to actually marry, and now he was standing in front of a weirwood in the godswood of Winterfell, where he would marry the most beautiful woman in the world, the daughter of an ancient house that had existed for eight thousand years, the queen of the largest of the seven kingdoms. But in the end, she was still his little bird.  
  
A servant came to him shortly after he had awoken, bringing him a new quilted tunic. He immediately knew Sansa had made it for him when he saw the three running direwolves that were stitched on the frontside.  
  
Some servants brought him a tub of hot water, but Sandor was far too large for it and his legs hung over its edges. After Sandor had washed, he trimmed his beard so he didn’t look like a Dothraki who had never lost a fight.  
  
Just as Sandor had finished, Arya had arrived to get Sansa's nameday present. Sandor had asked Arya the day before if she could bring Sansa his gift. Sandor hoped Sansa would like the necklace.

Now he was waiting for her. He wore the new tunic Sansa had made for him under the cloak that she had sewn at Castle Black that resembled the one her father had used to wear. Arya had quickly returned and was now standing beside him. She looked like a real lady with her dress and her braided hair. All the lords had taken their places. All the Lords that hadn’t bothered to come the first time- He saw Lord Manderly, Lord Glover and even Lady Mormont. She was also wearing a dress, maybe to show support for her friend. Both girls seemed to have been born in breeches. Tormund and Davos stood next to Brienne, giving him encouraging smiles. Sandor felt the eyes of the whole North on him.  
  
It was only afternoon, but since winter had arrived, the sun was already going down, and torches lightened the path.  
  
Sandor’s heart jumped when he finally saw Sansa walk down the path, her arm linked with her brother’s.  
  
Sansa looked stunning in her dress. It was made of white fabric with black for contrast, accentuating her womanly curves. Her shoulders were covered by soft wolf's fur. Her hair was braided into several braids uniting into one. His bride of winter also wore her crown. Sandors felt his heart swell in his chest when he saw that she was wearing the necklace he had given her. The contrast of her fiery red hair with the white and black of her dress made her seem like a goddess of winter.  
  
She held her head high, but a shy smile played around her mouth.  
  
Arya next to him stepped forward. “Who comes before the Old Gods this night?” Arya asked.  
  
Jon spoke up. “Sansa of the House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"  
  
“Sandor of House Clegane. Who gives her?"  
  
Jon and Sansa shared a short look with each other before Jon said, “The Queen of the North gives herself to this man.”  
  
Arya turned to her sister. “Queen Sansa, do you take this man?"  
  
Sansa's blue eyes fixed on him. “I take this man," she finally said, smiling widely.  
  
Sandor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.  
  
Sansa stepped in front of him so they could share the kiss that would officially end the ceremony. Sansa was beaming at him. He leaned down and placed a gentle kiss on her lips.  
  
“Happy nameday, little bird," he whispered when their lips parted, and Sansa smiled even more at him.  
  
Sansa linked her arm with his and they turned to the gathered lords and ladies of the North and the Vale.  
  
The lords started to cheer, and Sansa started to walk with him arm-in-arm to the great hall where the feast would be held.  
  
During the whole walk to the great hall, Sandor felt like he was walking in a dream. The woman that held onto his arm was really Sansa. He had often imagined what it would like to have her as his wife, and now it was reality.  
  
They took their seats at the high table. Sansa and Sandor had the seats of honor in the center. Sansa sat on his right next to her brother, and Arya sat left of Sandor.  
  
When all the guests had taken their places, the servants started to fill the cups with wine and ale.  
  
Jon rose from his table and toasted the health of his sister and her husband. The crowd cheered agreement and servants started to bring countless plates of all kinds of food.  
  
Lord Manderly had brought everything with him a man could ask for. Sandor had seen the carts that Lord Manderly had brought along, carts filled with pork, beef and all kinds of wild game and fish. Sandor hoped Lord Manderly hadn’t forgotten the special request Sandor had asked him for, shortly before he’d left for White Harbor, after the announcement of this wedding.  
  
Sansa leaned over to him. “I have something for you my love," she said, smiling.  
  
It still made his heart swell to her call him ´my love´.  
  
She gestured to a servant who brought a large plate with several chickens and placed it right in front of him followed by a pitcher of wine.  
  
“I thought there were no chickens left in Winterfell," Sandor said teasingly.  
  
“There weren’t. You and Tormund have eliminated the whole population we had, but I wrote Lord Manderly that he should bring some along.”  
  
She pointed to the pitcher. “And some Dornish red, too. You once told me that Dornish red or a woman is everything a man needs. And now you have both.”  
  
Sandor hadn’t Dornish red since before he had met Septon Ray. He had never expected Sansa to remember his taste for Dornish red.  
  
“I love you, Sansa," he said, placing a kiss on her lips, tasting her own light sweet Arbor wine she had been drinking.  
  
“Thank you for the necklace. It’s beautiful.” Sansa said, a bit breathless after their lips parted.  
  
“Not nearly as beautiful as you, Sansa.” Sandor told her, and a slight blush reddened her cheeks. It made her look even more beautiful.  
  
A servant came with a large plate and Sandor turned to Sansa. “And a have also something for you, little bird.”  
  
The servant placed the plate in front of Sansa. Sansa's eyes widened at the sight of two dozen fresh-baked lemon cakes, still warm from the oven. She grabbed one and bite into it with relish, smiling like a cat that got the cream.  
  
“How did you manage to get lemons? We definitely didn’t have any in our stockpile,” Sansa asked him after finishing her cake.  
  
“I asked Lord Manderly if it would be possible for him to bring some with him, after the announcement.”  
  
“So we both have to thank Lord Manderly for his service," she said with a smirk.

The feast went on for several hours. Some wildings had turned out to be talented musicians, and so the hall was filled with sounds of the North. Many lords came over the course of the evening to give them their best wishes in person.  
  
Arya had sat for a while with the little bear and Brienne, obviously having a good time talking about different fighting styles. When she was walking back to her chair, she stopped and leaned between them.  
  
“You might want to leave soon before someone comes up with the idea of the bedding ceremony. I don’t want to have a reason to start a new list of people to kill for ripping off my sister´s wedding gown.” Arya suggested.  
  
Sandor saw how Sansa tensed up a bit at the mention of the bedding ceremony. He didn’t want one, and he wouldn’t permit Sansa to once more have to endure hands on her she didn’t want.  
  
“What do you think, Sansa? Should we retire?” Sandor asked her, stroking his thumb over the back of her hand. Sansa nodded, smiling shyly at him.  
  
Sansa turned to her brother and told him they would retire for the night. He nodded and wished them a good night, as did Arya.  
  
Sansa linked her arm with Sandor’s and they left the great hall through one of the side doors, leaving the guests to continue their celebration. They walked up the stairs and finally reached the room that had once been her parents, and now would be theirs.  
  
Sandor felt that Sansa was becoming more nervous with every step they took.  
  
“Little bird,” he softly spoke and Sansa turned to him. “You don’t have to be nervous about anything.”  
  
Sandor still remembered how he had mocked Sansa in King's Landing once, when she started to chirp her lie about how happy her wedding night with Joffrey would be. Back then he had tried to scare her, but since the night in the inn, when he was on his way to Winterfell, he regretted his words. Sansa had deserved to have her wedding night and first time to be like the stories she had once loved so much. The knowledge of what had happened to her still made his heart bleed furiously.  
  
“I know you will be gentle with me, Sandor.” Sansa pulled him down into a kiss and they entered their room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i am referring to an deleted scene in the end. for all who have no idea: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gGfx8sREz_Y
> 
> next chapter: Sansa


	71. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Chapter many people have waited for :D

They entered their new room for the first time, the room that once had belonged to her parents. Every single Bolton possession had been removed from that room, and the carpenters had made completely new furniture for them. A large bed made of oak stood at the wall, covered with soft furs. Two cushioned chairs stood at a table. A glass decanter with Dornish red and two cups stood on it next to a plate with lemon cakes. It seemed Sandor had asked the servants to bring the cakes, just as Sansa had asked them for the wine. A fire was already roaring in the fireplace, lighting the room in soft warm light. Snow had begun to fall outside the window again.  
  
Sansa's heart was beating like mad. She couldn’t tell if it was excitement or anxiety. Sansa knew Sandor wouldn’t do anything she didn’t want, but although she was a woman twice wedded and bedded, Sansa still knew nearly nothing about the things that happened between wife and husband.  
  
Her mother had never told her anything besides how it would be her duty to lay with her husband as often as he wished, to provide him with heirs.  
  
Septa Mordane hadn’t been a great help, either. She had always said that Sansa’s duty was to lie still, while her husband had his pleasure with her. Mordane always said everything else would be considered wanton behavior on her part. Her septa also hadn’t even given her any real information regarding her moonblood, simply telling her she would bleed when the time would come. Sansa felt her mother and septa had left her unprepared for everything that had happened to her as a woman.  
  
Her memories were interrupted by Sandor lightly touching her arm.  
  
“Are you alright, little bird?" he asked with a hint of concern in his voice.  
  
Sansa nodded.  
  
“We don’t have to do anything tonight, Sansa, if you don’t want to," he softly rasped.  
  
Sansa gently stroked his scars with her hand.  
  
“I want to… with you… but… but… you might have to guide me…” Sansa said shyly, but before she could finish Sandor interrupted her by pressing his lips to hers.  
  
Sansa tasted the Dornish wine on his lips. His beard lightly tickled her skin. Sansa flung her arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, while she felt Sandor’s hands travel along both sides of her ribcage. His tongue lightly brushed against heirs. Sansa felt heat pool in her lower belly, at the warmth of his hands through the fabric of her dress and the feel of his lips on hers.  
  
“I love you, Sansa," Sandor breathlessly rasped, after their lips parted.  
  
“I love you too, Sandor,” Sansa said in an equally breathless tone.  
  
Sansa put her crown down on the table and loosened her braids, letting her hair fall freely down her back.  
  
Sansa turned around and looked at him over her shoulder, biting her lip.  
  
“Can you help with the lacing of my dress?” Sansa asked, pulling her hair over her shoulder to reveal the laces.  
  
Sandor’s big hands gently started to work on her laces, while peppering her neck with kisses. Sansa loved the feel of his hands on her.  
  
Sansa felt her dress loosen and let it slip down until it was in a pile on the ground at her feet. She turned around only wearing her smallclothes and silken shift.  
  
“You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” Sandor said, while leaning down for another kiss. A light flush warmed her cheeks at his words.  
  
Sansa shyly tugged on his tunic and he pulled it over his head, letting it fall to the ground.  
  
“You look magnificent," Sansa said, trailing her finger over his muscled chest, touching every scar, each proof of a pathetic attempt to kill him.  
  
Sandor pulled her into an embrace, kissing her jawline and down her throat, muttering sweet words of love against her skin. Sansa felt his hardness press against her belly through his breeches.  
  
“I want you, Sandor,” Sansa muttered, love-drunk, while Sandor peppered her throat with another set of kisses.  
  
Sansa hadn’t even realized how they had trailed over to the bed. Sandor kicked off his boots and unlaced his breeches. Sansa felt her face heat up at the sight of him in his smallclothes.  
  
All the times before, she had just closed her eyes and waited until it was over, but now she wanted to feel and see every moment. Sandor looked like the Warrior himself ,and his gentle touches made her knees go weak.  
  
Sansa grabbed the hem of her shift and pulled it over her head. She wanted to show all of herself to the man she loved. When she stood in front of him only in her stockings and smallclothes, goosebumps covered her chest and a flush heated her face. It had been a long time since she had been that exposed to anyone.  
  
Sansa glanced at Sandor through her eyelashes and saw desire in his grey eyes.  
  
“The Maiden pales against you, little bird,” Sandor softly whispered as he pulled her against him. Sansa flushed at the feeling of her soft body tugged against his hard one.  
  
Sandor gently lifted her up in his strong arms and placed her down on the soft furs. Sandor crawled beside her on the bed and started to kiss down her throat, letting his large hand wander over her chest.  
  
Her breath hitched, when he cupped her breast, stroking and pinching her nipple with his thumb while kissing and sucking on the other one.  
  
A small moan escaped Sansa’s lips, and she felt dampness pool in her lower regions. Her hand grabbed Sandor’s hair when his tongue flickered over her left nipple.  
  
“Sandor," she moaned. He continued kissing down her belly, always watching to see if she liked what he did.  
  
Sandor carefully rolled down her left stocking, kissing her calf, before doing the same with the right.  
  
Sandor knelt between her legs and leaned down to place another kiss on her lips. His big body looming over her, she felt his hardness pressed against her through his own smallclothes.  
  
Sansa expected that he would now want to enter her, since he was carefully tugging on her damp smallclothes. Sansa bit her lips and felt her face flush when he finally pulled then down. Sansa had never been so aroused before. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt as it had all the other times.  
  
Instead of freeing himself of his own smallclothes, he placed kisses down her leg. His beard made the sensitive skin of her thighs tingle when he slowly kissed his way down to the auburn curls that crowned her sex.  
  
Sansa had no idea what he planned to do. She had never heard of men doing that with women and she eyed him curiously.  
  
Sansa moaned in surprise when his tongue traveled along her folds. Sansa’s breath hitched again, and her back arched up when his tongue found a particular sensitive bundle above her slit, his fingers caressing through her curls.  
  
“Sandor…" she moaned when he gently sucked on it.  
  
Why hadn’t anyone told her it could feel that glorious? Sansa thought to herself, as the heat in her body even more intensified. Something was happening to her, and she had no idea what it was.  
  
Sandor eyed her, curious, and held her by her thighs. Sansa arched against his mouth and pleasure washed over.  
  
“Sandor… please… don’t… stop…” Sansa was nearly wailing as wave after wave of pleasure flooded through her body.  
  
When she finally came back to senses again, Sansa saw that Sandor was watching her, smirking.  
  
“I knew you could sing the sweetest song, little bird," Sandor gently rasped as Sansa pulled him down for another kiss. Sansa tasted herself on his lips and it fueled her desire for him.  
  
“Sandor… that was… incredible…" she managed to mutter when her breath started to slow down.  
  
“That is how it is supposed to feel, Sansa,” he replied while nipping on her ear.  
  
“I want to feel all of you, Sandor," Sansa whispered, and Sandor started to undo his own smallclothes.  
  
Sansa shyly looked at his member, so much larger than Ramsay's or Tyrion’s.  
  
“Can I touch it?" Sansa asked carefully.  
  
“If you want to.”  
  
Sansa warily closed her hand around his length and couldn’t help but wonder how hard and soft it was at the same time. She carefully rubbed its tip and she gasped a little when it twitched under her touch.  
  
Sandor covered her hand with his. Had she done anything wrong?  
  
“Not so quickly, little bird, or I won't last long. It's been a long time for me.”  
  
Sansa let go of him and Sandor gently gestured her to spread her legs further.  
  
He took himself in hand and let its tip slip alongside her folds, covering himself in her wetness. Sansa tensed slightly at the feel of him at her entrance.  
  
“Look at me," he said softly as he pressed his hardness into her.  
  
Sansa stroked her hand over his burned side and their eye contact never broke as he slowly guided himself into her. Sansa mouth fell agape and she gasped lightly at the feel of being so filled and stretched by him.  
  
“Are you alright, little bird?," Sandor groaned.  
  
“Yes," Sansa moaned. “Please, Sandor, I need you.”  
  
Sandor buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing her throat, and started to move inside her. Sansa moaned and flung her arms around his neck, letting her hands travel over his muscled back and through his hair. Every time Sandor buried himself in her, Sansa felt a wave of pleasure wash over her, and something bigger started to build up inside of her again.  
  
“Sandor… more…” Sansa purred and Sandor increased his speed.  
  
Sandor’s breathing became heavier and faster with every thrust he gave. Sansa felt she was close to her peak.  
  
“Sandor… I… I…”  
  
“Peak for me, Sansa, I want to hear your beautiful song again," Sandor panted against her ear.  
  
Sansa felt herself clench around him, arching her back, and panted his name over and over again.  
  
She could hear a stained “Sansa," as she felt Sandor spill his seed in her ,with two final thrusts before collapsing completely exhausted.  
  
Sansa slowly came back to her senses and Sandor rolled off her, pulling her to his side so she could lay her head on his chest. Sansa drew circles through his chest hair while her breath slowly calmed down. She could feel his heart race under her hand.  
  
Sandor pulled the furs over them and Sansa felt his strong arms around her.  
  
“That was wonderful, Sandor," Sansa said in a dreamy, sleepy voice.  
  
“Aye, that was it, little bird.” Sandor kissed the crown of her hair, pulling her even closer.  
  
Sansa felt warm and safe in the arms of the man she loved. Sandor stroked her hair lightly and the sound of his heart made Sansa quickly fall into sleep.


	72. Sansa

Sansa slowly woke up from a restful sleep. She felt Sandor’s strong arms holding her against his chest, and a layer of furs over them.  
  
Warm and safe, Sansa thought to herself. She hadn’t felt that way for a long time.  
  
Sansa didn’t open her eyes, just snuggled closer to him and the heat he radiated. She dozed off again at the sound of his steady breathing and his heartbeat under her head.  
  
Her lips curled to a smile at the memory of last night. Sansa realized it had been the first night the hadn’t awoken from nightmares. Even after they had regained Winterfell, Sansa had still woken up badly every night. But safely nestled in Sandor’s arms, she had slept safe and sound. She had even dreamed of happy things.  
  
Sandor must have felt her nestling closer in his arms, since he gently pulled her closer, pressing a soft kiss to the crown of her hair.  
  
“Good morning, little bird," he said, still nearly asleep.  
  
Sansa crawled up to his face and pressed her lips on his.  
  
“Good morning, my love.”  
  
For a while they just lay next to each other, staring at the other’s face, smiling.  
  
Sandor gently reached over and stroked her cheek with his large fingers.  
  
“I didn’t hurt you last night, did I?" Sandor asked with a hint of concern.  
  
Sansa pressed her thighs together. She felt a bit sore, but nothing she couldn’t handle. Sansa felt her face flush at the memory, how gentle his touches had been, and how his mouth on her lady parts had made her see stars.  
  
“No, you didn’t hurt me. You were gentle and perfect,” Sansa said, taking his hand in hers and smiling honestly at him.  
  
“And… and I enjoyed it," Sansa shyly added, feeling another flush creep up her face.  
  
“I heard it. You sang a sweet song for me, little bird,” Sandor said softly, pulling her to him for another kiss.  
  
Sansa’s stomach rumbled in the most unladylike manner and Sandor chuckled, his own stomach matching the sound of hers.  
  
“Hungry?" Sandor asked.  
  
“Starved!”  
  
Sandor kissed her on the cheek and got out of their bed, putting his smallclothes on while walking to the table and returning with the untouched plate of lemon cakes.  
  
Sansa greedily took one, enjoying the taste of it while Sandor crawled back under the furs.  
  
“I am still hungry,” he grumbled when the plate was empty.  
  
“We could join Arya and Jon in our solar where they always break their fast, since we have to get up anyway. Jon wants to depart before midday,” Sansa said.  
  
“Aye. Should I call for hot water so you can bathe?”  
  
“No, that won’t be necessary.” A basin with water stood on the nightstand and Sansa washed herself while Sandor put on some fresh clothes.  
  
Sansa saw that the servants must already have brought their belongings to the room yesterday, during the feast, and Sansa was happy when she saw the dress she had made at Castle Black already hanging over one of the chairs, ready for her.  
  
Sansa and Sandor quickly dressed before leaving to break their fast with Sansa’s siblings. When they entered their solar, Jon seemed surprised to see them there so early, but before he could say anything, Arya spoke up.  
  
“Gods, Sandor, what did you do with Sansa? She is glowing with joy," she said, widely smirking, and reached for the plate with the bacon.  
  
Sansa felt the flush heating her cheeks.  
  
“That’s my secret, little wolf. But talking isn’t the only thing you can do with your mouth,” Sandor said, chuckling.  
  
“Sandor!" Sansa yelped, hitting his arm lightly.  
  
“What? She has no idea what I am talking about.” Sandor said teasingly.  
  
Arya really looked like she had no idea what Sandor was referring to, but Jon was scratching his beard, his face flushed deep red, trying not to meet her eyes.  
  
Sansa took her place with Sandor at her side and they filled their plates with everything their hearts desired.  
  
“When are you planning to leave?" Sansa asked Jon over the table,to change the topic of the previous night.  
  
“Shortly after midday. All the lords are gathered with their men. I want to reach the Wall as fast as possible. Samwell will stay here. I allowed him to look through the old books and scrolls that survived the sack. He might finds something useful. And I want to send the wounded back here, if possible. I can’t allow them to easily become meat for the army of the Night's King.”  
  
“I see," Sansa said.  
  
Jon left soon after, looking after the last preparations, and Arya went to have her sparring with the little bear.  
  
Sansa and Sandor enjoyed their first morning as husband and wife, exchanging short kisses between their bites.


	73. Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Later at the same day

Sandor stood next to Sansa when they said goodbye to Jon. While Jon, Sansa and Arya exchanged some last words, Sandor’s thoughts drifted off to the morning.  
  
When Sandor had awoken, he’d nearly feared that the wedding and the last night with Sansa had only been a dream ,and he would wake up alone in his bed. But when he felt her soft skin nestled against him and her sweet smell surrounding him, he knew it wasn’t a dream. He had watched her for some time while she had slept. Her fiery hair spread all over her back and her mouth curled in a smile.  
  
Sandor knew Sansa had been nervous about last night, but he would have never forced or talked her into doing anything she didn’t want. If Sansa had told him yesterday that she just wanted to be held, he would have, and all nights thereafter as well. After all, he didn’t marry her to have someone to fuck, but for her as a person: his little bird, the Wolf Queen.  
  
“I will write as often as I can," Jon told his sisters.  
  
“As will we,” Sansa told him.  
  
Sandor knew that Jon had written a last will, should the fight at the Wall be his end. Not that it mattered anyway. If the Wall fell, it would be the end of everybody.  
  
Jon gave each sister a hug and a kiss on her forehead before turning to Sandor.  
  
“You will take care of my sisters and Winterfell, won't you, Sandor?" Jon asked. It was the first time Jon had called him by his first name.  
  
“I think your sisters can take care of themselves, but I will. And you’d better take care of yourself, or my wife is going to kill you.”  
  
Jon had to grin at that. “I will," he said, holding out his hand.  
  
Sandor shook it and felt like this was the moment he completely became part of the Stark family.  
  
Sandor saw that Maester Tarly had tears in his eyes, seeing his friend ride off into an unknown fate. Jon mounted his stallion while Sandor saw Tormund watching Brienne from his saddle.  
  
Sansa held onto his arm as the queue of lords and knights started to leave through the north gate, but he could see that Arya was blinking away some tears that had pooled in her eyes.  
  
He had initially expected Jon would want to take every men who could hold a sword to the wall, so it was a positive surprise when he had told Sandor he would want him to stay with Sansa at Winterfell. Jon had told him he wanted to have one seasoned warrior in Winterfell who could oversee the drill of the new men who would be called to arms after the first company had departed for the Wall.  
  
Sandor wasn’t the only one to stay behind: Davos was, also. Since he had a connection to the Iron Bank of Braavos, Jon and Sansa wanted him to get the money they needed, to make sure the North and the men at the Wall would have enough supplies during the winter.  
  
After Jon had ridden through the gate with Ghost at his side, Sansa and her sister watched from the battlements how he and the army consisting of Northmen and knights of the Vale started their march North.  
  
Arya left after a while to attend to her fighting lesson with the bear cub, but Sandor and Sansa stayed a little longer and watched the wintery scenery until the army had disappeared at the horizon.


	74. Sansa

Nearly two weeks had passed since Jon departed for the Wall. Davos had ridden to White Harbor two days ago to meet the representative of the Iron Bank for the money they needed.  
  
Sandor and Brienne had started to instruct the latest recruits that had been called to arms. While both had spent the day showing these green boys how to hold sword and spear correctly, Sansa had overseen the first sowing of crops in the glass gardens. Soon enough, they would have a steady supply of fresh food for the growing population of Wintertown.  
  
Sansa sighed happily in the crook of Sandor’s neck. Since the night of the wedding, Sansa and Sandor had developed the nightly routine of lovemaking and then drifting off to sleep nestled in each other’s arms, feeling the warmth and closeness of one another.  
  
“Little bird," Sandor said breathlessly after their latest lovemaking in the early hours of morning. His finger ghosted over her back, caressing her soft skin in small circles.  
  
Earlier they had lay, snuggled up to each other, and Sandor had told her of the many ways man and woman could be together. Sansa told him she would always want to see his face. Sansa couldn’t endure the thought of being taken from behind again, like Ramsay had always done it.  
  
Sandor must have seen the fear in her eyes, when she spoke, because he started to kiss her right away, pulling her into his lap to straddle him.  
  
Sandor held her close to his chest and she held the contact with his grey eyes while he guided himself inside her. Sansa threw her head back at the feel of him and Sandor kissed her jawline down her throat, burying his face in the crook of her neck.  
  
Sandor had his right hand at her hip, guiding her movement at the beginning. Sansa rocked against him, her breasts pressed against his muscled chest.  
  
Sandor fell back onto the bed when Sansa quickened her pace. One of Sandor’s hands gently cupped one of her breasts, caressing her nipple with his thumb, while the finger of his other hand stroked the pearl located above her slit.  
  
Sansa felt herself clench around him while pleasure washed over her. Shortly after, Sandor followed her over the edge of pleasure. Sansa collapsed onto him, breathing heavily into his neck, her hair sticking on her sweaty back.  
  
“I love you, Sandor," Sansa said after a while enjoying his hands on her back.  
  
“I love you, too," Sandor said, kissing her.  
  
Sansa quickly found herself drifting off to sleep, still lying on Sandor’s brought chest encircled by his arms.

  


They woke up a few hours before sunrise to knocking on their door.  
  
“Who can this be, at this time?" Sansa asked, rolling off his chest.  
  
Sandor growled rubbing his face. “No idea, but it should better be fucking important.”  
  
Sansa pulled the furs up to her chin, while Sandor left the bed, putting on some breeches. Sansa buried her face in the pillows, listening to Sandor’s steps and the sound of the door lock being unlocked.  
  
Sansa only heard a few scraps of the conversation.  
  
“What are you doing here?" Sandor asked in a whisper.  
  
“…is she awake?”  
  
“Yes, she is, thanks to your knocking.”  
  
“…please, I need to talk to her. It's important.”  
  
Sansa heard Sandor growl, when he walked back over to her.  
  
“Little bird, it's your sister.”  
  
“Arya?" Sansa asked rubbing her eyes.  
  
“Aye, she looks like she needs her big sister.”  
  
Sansa got up and wrapped herself in her nightgown.  
  
Arya entered the room. She also only wore her nightgown, and had a cloak tightly wrapped around her frame.  
  
When Sansa saw that unshed tears were glittering in her eyes, she looked at Sandor and they shared a look. He seemed to read her thoughts.  
  
“I will leave you alone. I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”  
  
Sansa nodded and Sandor left the room. As soon as the door was closed behind him, Sansa spoke up.  
  
“Arya, are you alright? What is it?” Sansa asked, concerned, eying her from head to toe.  
  
“I… I… I got my moonblood.”  
  
Sansa didn’t understand. “Yes, your moonblood. What the matter about it?”  
  
“You don’t understand, Sansa," Arya said, pulling her cloak tighter around her, and Sansa saw a single tear slip down her face. It disturbed Sansa to see her sister cry. She always seemed so strong that Sansa could easily forget she was only fifteen. “It’s my first moonblood.”  
  
Sansa was surprised by that, since Arya was much older than Sansa had been at her first moonblood. She pulled Arya into an embrace and rubbed her back.  
  
“It's alright, Arya, no need to cry. I am here for you.”  
  
Sansa nodded and opened Arya’s cloak, revealing blood stains on her nightgown.  
  
“Alright, Arya, let's clean you up first. You can have one of my shifts.”  
  
Arya nodded weakly and Sansa led her by the hand to the washbasin near the fireplace. While Arya cleaned herself, Sansa looked in her cedar chest for a shift that could fit her sister. Sansa handed Arya some clothes to wear in her smallclothes and remembered the day she herself had flowered.  
  
“My bed is bloody, too.” Arya said while pulling her bloodstained shift over her head.  
  
“Don’t worry yourself with that. Sandor knows firsthand what a mess I made when I flowered. Come sit with me by the fire, and we’ll talk about everything you need to know.”  
  
Arya nodded, sitting down in one of the cushioned chairs at the fireplace. Sansa added a new log and poked the fire back to life. When she turned to sit down in her own chair, Sansa explained everything and answered every question Arya came up with. Sansa saw the fear and uncertainty slowly leaving Arya's eyes during their conversation. Sansa went to her dressing table, getting some herbs out of a small box, when she saw that Arya was pressing her hand over her lower belly.  
  
“Here, these herbs will help with the cramps. Just put them in a cup with hot water and drink the tea. It will ease the pain.” Sansa said, giving her sister a reassuring smile.  
  
“Were you afraid, when you flowered Sansa?" Arya asked, taking the herbs from Sansa.  
  
Sansa nodded.  
  
“I was terrified, and I desperately wished for Mother at that day. Mordane never really told me about it, and Mother only described it as something magical. It couldn’t have been farther from that. Joffrey always said he would put a child in me as soon as I had bled. So when I flowered shortly after the bread riots, I panicked at the thought of being forced to share a bed with Joffrey. I desperately tried to cut out the bloodied parts of the sheet. The only maid who wasn’t one of Cersei's spies, Shae, tried to help me flip over the mattress. She even ran after another maid, when she saw us. I just wanted to burn the sheets, but Sandor found me. His presence made me calm down enough, before I was sent to Cersei, to have the talk I just had with you.”  
  
“I am glad you are here for me," Arya said, smiling warmly at her. “I don’t even want to imagine having this talk with someone else, less with Cersei.”  
  
Sansa remembered how scared and ashamed she had been when she had entered the Queen’s room.  
  
“The talk with Cersei was probably the only time that she showed honest kindness to me. Maybe she saw herself in me at that moment. I don’t know.”  
  
Both sisters sat in silence for a while, listening to the cracking of the fire.  
  
“I am glad that you won't marry me off for an alliances," Arya said, looking in the fire.  
  
“I never could do that to you. I had to endure it twice, and I won't ever force anything like it on you.”  
  
“I love you, Sansa," Arya said.  
  
“I love you too”, Sansa said smiling warmly at her.  
  
“What is it like?”, Arya asked a bit shyly.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“What is it like to be with a man?”  
  
Sansa was thinking about what she should answer her sister. Their mother and septa had always been vague about it and it had left Sansa unprepared for everything. She wouldn’t do the mistake with Arya. Arya deserves to know the truth. The ugly and the beautiful.  
  
“Depends on the man. With Ramsay there was only pain and humiliation, but with Sandor it is wonderful. With a man that loves and worships you it is far more, than just the duty mother and Mordane always referred to. It can be really wonderful.”  
  
Sansa felt a flush creep up her cheeks at the memory of Sandors touches only a few hours ago.  
  
“I hope you will find the right man easier than I did, so you don’t ever have to endure what I had to. I would have rather given my maidenhood happily to Sandor, than lose it the way I did. Ramsay stole me the only thing that really belonged to me at that time and made Theon watch while he held me down. Most highborn maidens don’t have a choice who they give their maidenhead to, but you have been given that choice, so don’t give it away light-headed.”  
  
“I see. I hope that too. Thank you for being honest with me”, Arya said rising from her chair. “I should return to my chamber before some servant sees my bed and thinks I got murdered in my sleep, seeing all the blood.”  
  
Sansa raised herself and walked her to the door.  
  
“Thank you, Sansa, for being there for me. I’ll tell Sandor he can come back," Arya said, opening the door giving Sansa a hug. “I’ll see you later at breakfast.”  
  
With that Arya walked out.  
  
Sansa closed the door and looked out of the window. The sun hadn’t risen yet and Sansa slipped back under the warmth of the furs of her bed. Sandor came back after a short while and climbed into the bed next to her. Sansa nestled close to him and he encircled her with his arm.  
  
Sansa quickly drifted off to sleep, thinking how much she loved her sister and the man next to her.


	75. Jon

Castle Black was getting bigger and bigger with every hour they rode. The march from Winterfell had been an uneventful affair. Jon was glad about it. He didn’t want to lose any men before the Night's King showed his face. He would need every man he had, and even then victory was unlikely.  
  
It felt strange to return to the place he had been murdered. Jon felt a shiver run down his spine when he rode through the gates into the courtyard accompanied by Tormund and the lords of the North and the Vale.  
  
Jon looked around and saw Edd standing on the same spot as he had when Sansa had ridden into the castle a few months ago. Jon still remembered how broken she had looked when she ran into his arms.  
  
Jon was happy that Sandor brought her happiness. Sandor was a good man and he and Tormund considered him as friend by now. A bond of comradery had turned into friendship, forged by blood on the battlefield.  
  
Sandor’s comment about his nightly activities with Sansa during breakfast after the wedding had been unnecessary, and Jon still felt the heat crawl up his face thinking about it, but at least he knew what he was doing. And Arya had been right; Sansa had glowed with joy.  
  
Jon remembered his time with Ygritte in the cave north of the Wall. He still often dreamed of her.  
  
Jon hoped that Davos would be successful with the Iron Bank, so Sansa had the money necessary to keep sending them supplies and new men.  
  
Jon also hoped that Sam would find something within the old books left at Winterfell. After all, the first men had somehow managed to defeat the White Walkers, and maybe they had written down how they had managed it. The chance was small, but in this fight they would need every intel on how their enemy had been defeated during the long night.  
  
“Your Grace, welcome to Castle Black," Edd said.  
  
“No need to call me ‘Your Grace’,” Jon said, dismounting. “It's good to see you again," he said, giving Edd a hug.  
  
“Aye, likewise.”  
  
Jon looked up to the Wall, shining bluish in the sunlight. “Lets prepare for the upcoming storm.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know its short, but i wanted a short chapter to show Jon at the wall again.


	76. Sansa

Sansa sat in the solar overseeing the latest letters Maester Samwell had just brought her. The sound of clashing steel could be heard outside her window.  
  
Sandor and Brienne were currently overseeing the latest group of recruits, soon to be sent to the wall to reinforce Jon's forces.  
  
Sansa overlooked the letters and was surprised to see one of them sealed with the Greyjoy kraken.  
  
Sansa broke the seal and started to read.  


  


“ _To Sansa Stark and Jon Snow:_

_My sister Asha and I heard rumors that you have managed to retake Winterfell, and so I hope this letter reaches you._

_I returned to the Iron Islands to support Asha in claiming the Salt Throne. She has big plans for the Iron Island. Unfortunately, our uncle Euron was elected on the kingsmoot, and we had to flee._

_We fled to Meeren and joined Daenerys Targaryen. She wants the Iron Throne and has three grown dragons. She allowed Asha to keep her crown as long as we accept Daenerys as Queen of Westeros. Tyrion Lannister serves as her Hand. He holds only sympathy for you, and I beg you to consider declaring support for Daenerys._

_The Tyrells and Martells have already sided with her. When we landed in Sunspear, we heard that the Vale had forged an alliance with Dorne via the betrothal of one Martell girl with the current lord of the Vale._

_Daenerys will soon march north to conquer the Stormlands, and then will turn against the Lannisters at King's Landing. I again beg you to declare for Daenerys. She is a just leader and has big plans for a new Westeros. She will allow you to keep the North and your dominion over it._

_I hope to hear soon from you._

_Theon Greyjoy”_

Sansa had to think about what Theon had written. The last time the dragons had conquered Westeros, Torrhen Stark had knelt to save his people. Would the Starks and the North kneel again?  
  
Cersei's days were numbered, so much was sure. Sansa would have liked to hear Jon's opinion on that matter, but he was busy preparing the Wall for the upcoming fight. Jon and Sansa had agreed that Sansa would make the decisions as long as he was at the Wall, but inform him on her decisions.  
  
Sansa thought of every aspect before writing the letter that contained her answer.


	77. Sandor

One month had passed since the letter from the Wall came to inform Winterfell that Jon had arrived safely.  
  
Every day, new wounded men from the Wall arrived. Jon sent letters as often as he could. The Night's King hadn’t attacked with his whole power yet. He only tested the defense of the Wall and up to now, his forces had always been fought off. Jon had written that only skirmishes had taken place and it seemed that some kind of magic prohibited the Night's King to cross the Wall.  
  
The weather was changing constantly. The last two days had a clear sky with an icy wind constantly blowing, turning the world to ice.  
  
Sandor still couldn’t believe sometimes what a lucky man he was. Last winter he had lived in Casterly Rock. He remembered vividly how he and the simple soldiers had to freeze in their barracks while the Lannister family sat in their warm halls, enjoying their spiced wine.  
  
And now, Sandor was at Winterfell. Every night, he slept in a room warmed by fire and hot water running through the walls, lying next to the smartest and most beautiful woman of the world, who had become his wife.  
  
A week ago a new wave of wounded had arrived, and Sandor had been shocked to see Tormund was under them. Apparently a wight had stabbed him when he led a counterattack. The wound wasn’t lethal, but Jon didn’t want him close to the fights when he wasn’t completely up to the task. He should recover at Winterfell and return with the next group of recruits after he was completely healed. Sandor always visited him after he and Brienne were done with their daily training of the recruits and Brienne headed off to her lesson with Arya and Lady Mormont.  
  
Sandor had to chuckle; Brienne always asked how Tormund was, but always refused to join him during a visit.

Today's drill had ended earlier, since it had started to snow heavily. Sansa had told him this morning, when they broke their fast, to meet her in the godswood in the afternoon. Since she was still busy with organizing the constant transport of supplies to the Wall, Sandor decided to visit his horse first.  
  
Davos had somehow managed to bring the Iron Bank to their side, and now every day ships from Essos anchored in White Harbor, carrying all necessary supplies the North needed. Sansa had told him a few days ago that Daenerys Targaryen had landed in Dorne and was now marching towards King's Landing. She already had conquered great parts of the Stormlands, and Brienne had received a letter from her father on the Sapphire Island telling her he was alright and had bent the knee to the dragon queen.

When Sandor entered the stable he heard he wasn’t alone, but he couldn’t see who it was yet. He heard telling groans, however, so he knew what was going on.  
  
When Sandor looked around the corner, he saw Gendry standing with his back to Sandor, his breeches around his ankles. Someone else was kneeling in front of him. He threw his head back, moaning loudly, and there was no doubt what Sandor was witnessing. Sandor turned to leave, but froze when he heard Gendry stammer, “Arya…”  
  
“Fuck," Sandor thought to himself. “The wolfbitch took my advice to heart, that talking isn’t the only thing she could do with her mouth.”  
  
Sandor rubbed his face while leaving the stables. Sansa had been fine with the Arya having interest in the smith, but would she still be fine when she knew how close Arya and Gendry really were?  
  
Sandor would find out soon enough.

When the sun slowly started to set, he met Sansa at the entrance to the godswood. She looked tired.  
  
“Everything alright, little bird?" Sandor asked.  
  
Sansa smiled at him, pulling him down, and pressed a kissed on his mouth.  
  
“Yes, only an exhausting day, hearing petitions and negotiate with the merchants about the prices for their goods. These merchants thought me stupid, but they quickly learned I am not an idiot and now they leave with only half the money they expected.”  
  
Sansa linked her arm with his and led him into the godswood.  
  
“And how was your day, Sandor?”  
  
“Cold and wet. At least the current recruits learn quickly and listen to what Brienne and I are teaching them.”  
  
“I have an idea how to get warm and relax," Sansa said with mischievous smirk.  
  
Sansa led him deeper into a part of the godswood she hadn’t shown him yet. Sandor was interested what Sansa had planned.  
  
They ended up close to the castle wall, at a tree by a large pond of steaming water.  
  
“This pool isn’t well-known. It’s fed by the hot water running through the castle walls. The water is nice and soothing. On cold summer days, we used to bathe here as children.”  
  
Sansa started to undo her braid. “Come on. It will be nice. Nobody knows this pond besides us and Arya, so we won't be disturbed.”  
  
Sansa shook out her hair and started to unlace her dress. Sandor helped her with the last laces and the let it fall to the ground.  
  
Sandor kicked off his boots while Sansa pulled her shift over her head and got rid of her stockings and small clothes. She carefully walked into the pond while Sandor got rid of his own clothes. The cold air sent a shiver down his body. He followed Sansa into the pond and they both dived under to wet their hair.  
  
Sandor leaned at the edge of the pool, only his head remaining above the waterline. Sansa nestled herself at his chest, placing her head on his shoulder.  
  
Sansa sighted relaxed at the heat of the water surrounding them.  
  
They had their eyes closed, letting the heat flow through them. Sansa trailed her fingers over his chest while they enjoyed their time together.  
  
“This feels good, doesn’t it?," Sansa chirped happily.  
  
“Aye. That was a good idea.”  
  
“I told you," Sansa said, rising up to kiss him. She seemed to sense he was preoccupied. “Is something on your mind, Sandor?”  
  
Sandor wouldn’t lie to Sansa. “I saw your sister with Gendry in the stables before I met you.”  
  
Sansa looked at him with curiosity and concern shining in her blue eyes. Gods, he loved her eyes.  
  
“And?" Sansa asked carefully.  
  
“She might had taken my advice about the use of a mouth a bit too seriously. I saw her doing something your septa wouldn’t approve off.”  
  
Sansa's eyes widened and Sandor could see the flush that crept up her face.  
  
“I see," Sansa said.  
  
“Will you do or say something, Sansa?”  
  
“No. It’s her decision. And at least we know that Gendry is a good lad.”  
  
“Aye.” Sandor looked at the sky. The evening was slowly taking over the last fading signs of daylight.  
  
“Maybe we should go back to the keep. Dinner will start soon," Sansa suggested while climbing out of the pond, drying herself with a towel she somehow had managed to hide from him under her cloak.  
  
They quickly dressed before the heat of the water left their bodies and walked back to the keep, his arm linked with hers. Her cheeks rosy-colored from the heat of the water.


	78. Sansa

Sansa saw how Tormund made his way to the stables, where he would find Brienne. Earlier this day, two letters had arrived.  
  
One letter declared that Daenerys Targaryen has conquered King’s Landing, taken the Iron Throne, and named herself Queen of Westeros.  
  
Sansa had already waited for that letter. She knew Cersei wouldn’t stand a chance against the might of three dragons and the armies of Sunspear, Highgarden and the army the Dragon Queen had herself brought.  
  
Sansa had written to Theon that the North would be open to bend the knee to Daenerys if they would get the same conditions as the Iron Islands. Sansa had also written that they would be open to negotiations as soon as Daenerys sat on the Iron Throne.  
  
The second letter came from Theon telling of Cersei's end. Cersei apparently had tried to burn down the city when the armies of Daenerys had broken through the gates, after the dragons had burned down the army Cersei had to defend the city.  
  
When Cersei gave the order to burn them all, Jaime Lannister had turned on his sister and killed her, only to be killed right after by her mute guard. Theon had written that many believed it to be the mountain that, through some kind of dark magic, was still alive. But Daenerys had him burned to ashes by her dragon.  
  
Sansa had read the letter aloud in the presence of Sandor, Arya, Brienne, Lady Mormont and her maester, and maester Samwell.  
  
While the maesters talked about the effect of wildfire, Sansa watched the others for their reactions to the news.  
  
Sandor didn’t show any emotion upon hearing of his brother’s final death, Arya only shrugged saying that her list was now empty since Cersei was dead, and Lyanna Mormont only laughed at hearing of the queen’s end. But Sansa saw that Brienne was gravely hit by the death of Jaime Lannister. After all, Sansa knew that Brienne had been in love with this man and so it was no wonder when she excused herself quickly and stormed out of the solar.  
  
Sansa knew firsthand what it felt like to hear of the death of a beloved person, so she talked to Tormund after the others departed. Sansa told him what he needed to know about Brienne's relationship to the Kingslayer, and Tormund told her he would look after her. Brienne might not know it yet, but she needed someone to share her pain with, and who would be better for the job than a man who had fallen for her?  
  
Sansa saw how Tormund disappeared into the stable and Sansa hoped he could give Brienne some consolation.  
  
Sansa returned to her solar. She had to write a letter to Daenerys.


	79. Arya

Nearly a month had passed since the letter came declaring that this Targaryen woman had taken the Iron Throne. Arya didn’t care who would sit on that ugly iron chair, as long as that person didn’t bother her family.  
  
Arya had asked Sansa what was wrong with Brienne, since she seemed depressed after the news of the letter. Sansa had told her that Brienne had been close to the Kingslayer and therefore didn’t take his death easily.  
  
Brienne always attended to their practice lessons, but she lacked the effort she had usually put into it. Arya couldn’t really blame her for that.  
  
Sandor came to find her after his drill with the recruits to tell her that Sansa awaited them in her solar.  
  
“Do you know what's going on?" Arya asked Sandor while they walked up the stairs to the solar.  
  
“I don’t. But I saw Maester Samwell with a letter earlier. Maybe it has something to do with that. The letter had better brings good news. Brienne is still not over the death of her golden lion.”  
  
“At least she has Tormund’s shoulder to cry on.”  
  
“Has she?”  
  
“Yes, I stumbled over them yesterday. After all, that’s a small comfort.”  
  
Sandor only nodded.  
  
Two guards stood in front of the door to Sansa’s and Jon’s solar. They were wearing heavy plate armor with two wolves encircling each other on the breastplate, heavy furs around their shoulders, and sword and dagger at their belts. Arya knew that Sandor had been personally training them to make sure the guards who accompanied Sansa, when he had other duties to attend, were up to the task. Gendry had forged their armors, with a technique he had learned in Essos. Arya felt a blush creep up her face at the memory of his bare chest in the forge, when he had worked on the breastplates and the things they had done after he had completed the armors.  
  
They nodded when Arya and Sandor entered the solar.  
  
Sansa sat at her table. Dozens of parchments lying all over the table. Sansa came over to them and gave Sandor a kiss.  
  
“Please sit," she said. “I have good news.”  
  
Sandor and Arya took their seat at the table.  
  
“Whats going on, little bird?," Sandor asked.  
  
Sansa smiled widely at them. “Jon sent a letter. The White Walkers are gone.”  
  
Both Arya and Sandor were taken aback by that news.  
  
“But how?" Arya asked.  
  
“Daenerys Targaryen arrived with her dragons and burned the army of the dead, with most of the White Walkers, apparently.”  
  
“But how did she know about the war at the Wall?" Sandor asked.  
  
“I had written to Tyrion, after the letter of her conquering the Iron Throne arrived. Jon had been at the Wall with Tyrion, so he believed me telling him of the threat. I told him that Daenerys would get our loyalty after helping us with this existential threat. Jon writes he has something to tell us that isn’t fit for this letter. No idea what he means by that, but Daenerys won't be here during the negotiations to become an independent part of the seven kingdoms. She had flown directly back south with her dragons. The Riverlands and the West seem to still be resisting, and that one uncle of Theon’s apparently is raiding the southern coasts, so the new queen of Westeros still has a lot of work to do.”  
  
“That is great news, Sansa.”  
  
“Yes, it is. Jon writes he is on his way to Winterfell with the queen's hand Tyrion Lannister and the army of Unsullied that had accompanied her to the Wall. He will stay for a few days before marching to White Harbor to take their ships back to King's Landing.”  
  
Arya was happy. Soon, their _brother_ would be safely back with them.


	80. Sandor

Sansa was moaning and scraping his scalp while he licked her folds and gently stroked her small pearl of pleasure with his thumb.  
  
“Sandor…" she moaned while pleasure washed over her.  
  
Today her brother would return with the Imp, and Sansa had decided to start the new day more pleasurably than usual.  
  
“I love you, Sandor," Sansa muttered breathlessly when she came back to senses. Sandor loved how she was glowing with joy.  
  
“I love you, little bird.”  
  
Sansa climbed onto his chest, kissing him and stroking his burned cheek. Sandor groaned at the feel of her rubbing herself against his hard member trapped between them.  
  
Sansa gave him a mischievous look when she started kissing down his body and Sandor was curious what she was planning to do.  
  
Sansa gently wrapped her soft fingers around his cock, and Sandor felt his breath hitch when Sansa’s lips encircled the tip.  
  
“Gods…" was the only word that escaped him at the feel of her lips sucking on his cock.  
  
Sansa's blue eyes looked at him while her tongue swirled around him, her hand gently stroking him. She increased her speed, and Sandor felt he was getting close. Sansa must have sensed it, since she speeded up her movements and with one swirl of her tongue, he was over the edge, feeling himself spill in her mouth.  
  
“Fuck," he muttered breathlessly, while Sansa swallowed, wiping away what had gotten on her chin with the back of her hand. She crawled up to him and nestled herself in his arms before pressing a kiss to his cheek.  
  
“Damn, little bird, that was incredible.”  
  
“Good to know. I thought that since you always taste me, I could do the same for you.” She said smiling.  
  
They snoozed for a while, until Sansa said they had to get up before Jon arrived with Tyrion Lannister.  
  
Arya had asked her yesterday what they would do if Tyrion, still thought himself her husband. Sansa had simply said she would feed him to the hounds, since it had worked well for her other husband. Sandor had laughed deeply at that. The Imp could go fuck himself, if he thought Sansa would return to him.  
  
Sansa now stood tall and queenly next to him with her crown on her head. Arya was standing next to her on the left.  
  
Three horsemen rode through the gate into the courtyard followed by the huge direwolf. Jon hadn’t changed apart from having a longer beard.  
  
Jon climbed down from his horse and walked over to them while the Imp was still busy dismounting next to Davos.  
  
“I am glad to see you all well and healthy," Jon said to them, and Arya flung herself into his arms.  
  
“So are we," Sansa said, acting as representative for them all.  
  
The dwarf walked over to them. He was now wearing a beard and had the brooch of the Hand on his cloak. He stopped in front of Sansa and placed a kiss on her hand.  
  
“My lady, it's good to see you again.”  
  
“Likewise, my lord. I am sorry for your brother.”  
  
“Thank you, my lady.” He turned to Sandor.  
  
“Clegane, I heard you married not so long ago. Congratulations, I have never expected you to be a family man.”  
  
“Many things have changed, Lannister,” he growled.  
  
“Indeed.” He turned to Arya, also placing a kiss on her hand. “Princess.”  
  
Jon spoke up. “It has been a long ride. Maybe we could all retire for a while before discussing the terms prior to the feast this evening.”  
  
Sandor knew that Jon had to discuss something with his siblings.  
  
“I can show him to his rooms, while you talk with your sisters," Sandor offered.  
  
“No, Sandor, I would like you to hear it, too,” Jon said. It must be something really important if he wanted him present.  
  
Sansa gestured to some servant to show Tyrion to his rooms.  
  
“I will see you later," Tyrion said before walking off with the servant.  
  
Sandor followed the Stark siblings to their solar, not knowing what to expect.


	81. Sansa

Sansa had no idea what could be so important that Jon would want to do it prior to the negotiations that would decide the future of the North.  
  
They entered their solar and Jon sat down in one of the chairs at the fireplace. The others followed his lead.  
  
Sansa took her place between Sandor and Arya. Jon had a facial expression that Sansa could only describe as pained.  
  
“What is it Jon?" Sansa asked carefully.  
  
Jon took a deep breath. “I met Bran at the Wall.”  
  
“What?" both Stark sisters basically yelled at the same time.  
  
“How is he? Why didn’t he come back with you?" Arya asked right away.  
  
“He is fine, but he will never come back to Winterfell.”  
  
Sansa felt a sting in her heart. The last time she had seen Bran had been on the morning of his fall.  
  
“Why?" was the only thing Sansa could ask. Sandor took her hand and gave it a light squeeze.  
  
Jon started to explain to her and Arya what happened to Bran after he had to flee Winterfell: how he met a mysterious three-eyed raven that told him he was a greenseer, and how he had returned to the Wall to help with the White Walkers. He told them that Bran was now the three-eyed raven and his place was in the North. He told them that he wasn’t alone, that Meera Reed had decided her place was at Bran’s side.  
  
“And there’s more," Jon continued. “Bran can use the weirwood trees to see the past. I saw your father as a child, and Aunt Lyanna. I also saw him during Robert's Rebellion.”  
  
“Why are you saying ´your father´? He’s also your father," Arya said frowning.  
  
Jon gave her a sad smile. “Bran showed me and Daenerys a vision in which I saw my birth.” Jon rubbed his face before continuing. “I am not the son of Ned Stark. I’m the son of your Aunt Lyanna. Your father lied all those years to hide my parentage.”  
  
Sansa was speechless, as was Arya. All these years she had thought of Jon as her bastard brother. Everything had been a lie.  
  
“But why?" Arya somehow managed to say while tears pooled in her eyes.  
  
“My father is Rhaegar Targaryen. Your aunt wasn’t abducted by him. Bran showed Daenerys and I the truth. They fell in love during the tourney at Harrenhal. Your aunt never loved Robert, and so she fled with Rhaegar.”  
  
Jon sighed. “That means I am neither Stark nor Snow, and I am definitely not your brother.”  
  
“You are to us," Sansa immediately said and Arya nodded.  
  
“That’s also the reason why Daenerys isn’t here. As last living son of the crown prince, I have a higher claim to the Iron Throne than she. I told her I have no interest in power and that I share the reign of the North with you. It seemed to impress her. We will sort out the details with Tyrion later.”  
  
Sansa felt like the world was collapsing above her.  
  
“It doesn’t matter if you are our cousin now, you will always be our brother in our hearts," Arya said, smiling at him.  
  
Jon smiled at them and pulled to sealed letters out of a bag. “Bran wrote each of you a letter. He said I should give them to you after I told you the truth. We should meet Tyrion now. We have a lot to discuss.”  
  
Sansa nodded and took her letter with slightly shaking hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new pov in the next chapter :D


	82. Tyrion

After some hours of rest, Tyrion was walking through the ancient corridors of Winterfell.  
  
He still remembered his last two visits: his first with King Robert, and the second when he traveled back South from the Wall, before hell had broken loose and turned Westeros into a battlefield.  
  
When he had received the letter from Sansa, asking for support against the White Walkers in return for their support for Daenerys, Tyrion nearly couldn’t believe his eyes.  
  
He only remembered Sansa Stark as the timid young girl in King's Landing, living in fear of Joffrey's wrath. The woman he had seen when riding into the courtyard of Winterfell hadn’t anything left of the girl he had once seen beaten and bruised in the throne room.  
  
In front of him had stood a woman, looking more queenly than his sister had ever been, hardened by a life filled with pain and sorrow.  
  
Tyrion had often asked himself what might have become of her after Joffrey's death. He had always suspected that she would somehow survive. He didn’t hold any grudge against her that she had taken her chance to escape at the first given moment. He and Sansa might have been married in the sight of the Seven, but Tyrion knew that neither of them had wanted that marriage, least of them Sansa. He hadn’t been angry when he heard she had married again, when Theon Greyjoy and his sister had arrived in Meereen.  
  
At first he hadn’t had much pity left for the Greyjoy that he remembered as an arrogant prick. But when he had started to talk about the things that had happened to him, Tyrion had to admit that Theon was only a shell of the man he had once been. As he finished describing the part of Sansa's return to Winterfell, he was just a weeping mess. Tyrion couldn’t blame him and felt himself reminded of the day his father had made him watch as his guards raped his first wife. Hadn't the girl already suffered enough in her life?  
  
When Tyrion had arrived at the Wall with Daenerys and the Unsullied, he had been surprised to hear that Jon Snow had become king, and moreover that Sansa was queen at his side, reigning together.  
  
Tyrion had been taken aback when Jon Snow had told him that Sansa would await their return with her husband and sister. Tyrion had carefully asked whom Sansa had married. He hadn’t expected Jon Snow to be so cruel as to marry his sister off after what happened to her.  
  
When Jon told him Sansa had married Sandor Clegane, Tyrion had been astonished. He had never expected Sandor Clegane to marry, much less that someone like Sansa would choose him, but after Jon told him of their time together during the retaking of Winterfell and the time afterwards, it made sense to him.  
  
He still remembered how Clegane had covered her with his white cloak while everybody else in the throne room couldn’t avert their eyes from the weeping and humiliated daughter of the North. He hadn’t forgotten, either, how Clegane had saved her during the bread riots, and how back when he had told Tyrion that he hadn’t done it for him, it hadn’t made much sense, but now he saw it in a different light.

  


Tyrion entered the solar and saw Jon and Sansa already awaiting him. He took his seat at the table. Both wore their crowns and Sansa showed no emotion. She had gotten so much better in hiding them.  
  
“So, Lord Lannister," Sansa began after pouring each a cup of wine. “What are the conditions Queen Daenerys has to offer for our loyalty towards her and the restored house Targaryen?”  
  
What a fine queen she would have made for Westeros, Tyrion thought.  
  
“Queen Daenerys wants to lead the seven kingdoms into a new future. She knows about the atrocious acts her father committed. She offers you the same conditions she has given the Greyjoys. You are allowed to keep your crown and title, and reign over your land. In return, you swear to support Daenerys´ claim to the Iron Throne. Daenerys wants to let the high lords have part in making the laws, so she demands one representative of the reigning families of each region to stay in King's Landing. Those are her conditions. Be assured, she is a just regent who only wants the best for the seven kingdoms.”  
  
Sansa and Jon whispered with each other, obviously discussing the conditions.  
  
Both turned back to him.  
  
“We will accept these conditions, but neither of my sisters will go to King's Landing. I will be the one representing the North, since my crown is based on the assumption that I am Ned Stark's son. My sisters will stay in Winterfell,” Jon Snow said.  
  
“Do we have an agreement?" Tyrion asked.  
  
Sansa nodded. “Yes, we do, lord hand.”  
  
Tyrion was relieved. He had feared that the Stark stubbornness could become a problem. After all, Robb Stark had more than once been offered to bend the knee and return to Winterfell, but that boy had never seen the bigger picture.  
  
Tyrion extended his hand over the table and both of them shook it.

After the successful ending of their negotiations, the three immediately headed to the great hall where the feast in honor of Tyrion would start soon.  
  
When they entered the great hall, Clegane was already waiting, greeting Sansa with a deep kiss. It was obvious that Clegane wanted to make clear that he was the man at Sansa’s side now.  
  
Tyrion got the place of honor between Sansa and her brother. At one point during the feast, he leaned over to Sansa.  
  
“My Lady, I am happy that we came to an agreement.”  
  
“So am I, my lord, and please call me Sansa. I want us to be friends.”  
  
“Then I must insist you also call me Tyrion, Sansa. And don’t think I will make any claims regarding our marriage. Neither of us wanted it and I am glad that you are happy with Clegane.”  
  
“I am glad to hear that. When I heard you came to Winterfell, I already planned to get rid of you the same way I got rid of my second husband," she said in a slightly teasing tone.  
  
Tyrion frowned and gave Sansa a questioning smile.  
  
“I fed him to his own hounds, after Sandor was finished with him.”  
  
“I see," Tyrion said. “I am sorry about what happened to you after you fled King’s Landing. Theon Greyjoy told me about it in Meereen.”  
  
Sansa just nodded, but Tyrion didn’t miss how her right hand searched for her husband's.  
  
“I thank you for that, my lord. Both Theon and I know firsthand what that vicious Bolton bastard was capable off.”  
  
“Your mother would be so proud of you, if she could see you now.”  
  
“Thank you, Tyrion, but I highly doubt it. She wouldn’t approve of my choice of husband, but I don’t care anymore what my mother or brother would have said. They had the chance to free me by freeing your brother, but for Robb, his foreign queen and his kingdom were more important than I. And now they are dead, and my sister and I have to find our own way in this world.”  
  
“Be that as it may, you did well on your own, and I am glad that you have someone at your side who makes you happy.”  
  
Sansa just nodded, but smiled honestly at him. Shortly after that, Sansa excused herself and left the great hall with Clegane at her side.  
  
The feast continued, and Tyrion spoke with Jon and Maester Samwell until the early hours of the morning.


	83. Sansa

Sansa was relieved that Tyrion hadn’t argued about their marriage and that the negotiations went so smoothly. Maybe Westeros would finally get the peace the land craved.  
  
Sansa had excused herself from the feast with Sandor. They were walking towards their room in the keep. Sansa wanted to read the letter Bran had written for her, and she wanted Sandor to be with her when she did.  
  
The entered their room and Sandor added another log to the fire.  
  
“I haven’t seen Bran since the day he fell off the tower.”  
  
Sandor settled against the head of the bed and Sansa leaned herself against his shoulder.  
  
“I barely remember him," Sansa said when she broke the wax seal. She felt Sandor’s warm arms around her middle when she started to read loudly.  
  


“ _Dear Sansa,_  
  
_The last time we spoke and had seen each other, we were just children. I a boy loving to climb, dreaming of becoming a knight, and you a girl dreaming of stories and songs. Life has hardened us, one after another. First me, by taking my legs, then you by taking your wolf when you would have needed her the most._  
  
_I am a greenseer, Sansa. I can see things that have already happened, and I can see the past through the eyes of the weirwoods. The three-eyed raven has chosen me to be his successor in the eternity, so I will never again return to you. But I will watch over Arya and you like I have done for a long while now._  
  
_I have watched over you in King's Landing in my dreams. I have watched you pray in its godswood ,and heard your prayers to the gods to keep Rickon and me safe. I have seen how they beat you for Robb's victories, but I have also seen the man at your side taking care of you afterwards._  
  
_I saw you two in the night of the battle of the Blackwater, and how you both were scared in one way or another, going separate ways._  
  
_I saw you weep and mourn for our mother and Robb, and have wished so much to be able to give you comfort while you were the lone wolf in the lion's den, surrounded by thorns, being forced to hide your true self so deeply you nearly lost it._  
  
_When I saw you in the Eyrie, building Winterfell in the snow, I knew the wolf had reawakened. Winterfell is the home of the northern wolves, a den built of granite and weirwood to resist the coldest winters._  
  
_I saw you return to Winterfell in hope of taking back our ancestral home, only to be forced to witness how my sister was forced to swear hear vows in front of the heart tree. I cried when saw what they did to you, but again the wolf in you surpassed all obstacles, and you broke free to become the wolf you have always been._  
  
_I watched you and Jon unite the whole North under your banner and finally take back Winterfell in the names of the wolves. Don’t pain your heart with Rickon’s death. I had told him to go to Last Hearth; his death is my fault, not yours. You only knew earlier than everyone else that Rickon was lost to us._  
  
_Sansa, you have become a woman who father, mother, and all Starks before us would be proud of._  
  
_As has the man at your side. I saw him save and protect Arya. Even back then, I realized that you were important to him, and when he was close to death, lying under a tree, not knowing of the heart tree next to it, I heard his most honest and deep feelings for you. That love for you is what drove him forward and kept him alive._  
  
_I saw you together in the godswood, and I knew you were made for each other. It makes me happy that, after all the sorrow you’ve had to endure, you two have found each other._  
  
_This letter will probably be the last time you hear from me directly, but know that I will always watch over you, Arya, Jon, and all the children you will have. I might not be able to talk to you directly, but I will try to whisper through the heart tree._  
  
_I love you, sweet sister, and wish you all the happiness you can find._  
  
_Your Bran.”_

  
Sansa hadn’t realized that tears were running down her face.  
  
“I miss him so much, Sandor," Sansa wept while cradling the letter to her heart.  
  
Sandor pulled her into an embrace, and Sansa nestled into his arms.  
  
“I will never see him again," Sansa said, burying her face in Sandor’s tunic.  
  
Sansa felt his strong arms hold her tightly against him. He pressed his lips to the crown of her head.  
  
“Shhhh, little bird. You will see him every time you look at a heart tree, and every time the wind rustled its leaves, it will be him watching over you. He will never be gone for you, as long as he is in your heart,” he softly rasped.  
  
Sansa looked up at his face and Sandor gently wiped her tears away with his thumb.  
  
“I love you, Sandor”  
  
“I love you too, Sansa," he said, leaning down to kiss her.  
  
Nestled against him with his arms around her, Sansa slowly drifted off to sleep, and Sandor held her the whole night until the first light of the new day lightened the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i will post the next chapter as soon as i get it back from my beta :)


	84. Sansa

Tyrion had stayed for a fortnight in Winterfell. Sansa was glad for it. On one hand, Sansa and Jon used the time to sort out last points regarding the integrity of the North in Daenerys´ realm; on the other, it gave Sansa and Arya the opportunity to spend time with Jon before he was heading South.  
  
Sansa still had trouble accepting that Jon was in fact her cousin and not her brother. Arya felt the same way. Jon would always be their brother, as they would be his sisters. For the rest of the realm, he was still officially their brother. Only a handful of people knew the truth about Jon's heritage. They would continue to keep the secret to keep the peace in the realm. Jon had no interest in the Iron Throne, but some might have wanted to use his heritage to overthrow Daenerys.  
  
Sansa also used the time to prepare Jon for the snake pit that was King's Landing. With Varys as master of whispers and Littlefinger as the representative of the Vale, Sansa knew that scheming would be omnipresent. Sansa warned him to trust nobody. If he had to trust someone, he should hold onto Tyrion as hand of the queen, and to Davos, who would become the new master of ships. Sansa would make sure that Jon wouldn’t be unprepared as their father had been.  
  
Jon had left this morning, with Davos, Ghost and a hundred men as guard and a small household. While Tyrion and the Unsullied marched to White Harbor and took the ship back to King's Landing, Jon wanted to travel on the Kingsroad and travel the same way his siblings had.  
  
The farewell to Jon had been a pretty emotional affair. Maester Samwell had wept openly to say goodbye to his friend so soon again. Jon had told him he would find his home in Winterfell, since he couldn’t take his woman, Gilly, and her child back to the Wall.  
  
Sansa was now sitting in their solar. No, it was her solar from now on, up to the day Jon would return… if he ever returned home. Sansa fought back these dark thoughts. Jon would be fine.  
  
A dozen ravens had arrived this morning, their sealed letters piled on her table.  
  
Someone knocked on the door.  
  
“Yes?" Sansa asked.  
  
“Your sister for you, Your Grace," called one of her guards.  
  
“Send her in.”  
  
Arya came in wearing her breeches, her hair clinging to her sweaty forehead. She looked exhausted.  
  
“Arya, is there something you need?" Sansa asked, smiling warmly.  
  
“Can’t your sister simply visit you to see how you reign the North?" Arya asked, slightly teasing.  
  
“Of course you can. Some water?”  
  
Arya nodded thankfully and took the cup of water Sansa offered her and drank greedily. She took her place on the opposite side of the table.  
  
“So only we are left here.” Arya said placing her cup on the table, and reaching for one of the pears in a bowl on the table.  
  
“Yes. I hope I will be up to the task. It was one thing to share the responsibility with Jon, or reign the North, while he was at the Wall and I could get his input on decisions within two days by raven. No, it's all on my shoulders.” Sansa said, while breaking the seal of the first letter.  
  
“You will do fine. You were always meant to be queen, and you can always ask me," Arya said smirking, while sinking her teeth into the pear. The juice ran down her chin, making Sansa laugh lightly.  
  
“You’re right. I might ask you and teach you one thing or another.” Sansa said, tearing the letter she had just read apart.  
  
“What’s that letter about?" Arya asked.  
  
“It was about a topic that most letters here will be probably about," Sansa said gesturing to the pile of letters. “Marriage.”  
  
Arya frowned.  
  
“Since I married Sandor, the Lords of the North and of the Vale have sent me one letter after another, trying to convince me to marry you into one of their families. But don’t fear, I won't snatch you from the strong arms of your smith," Sansa said with a knowing smirk.  
  
Arya seemed taken aback by that revelation.  
  
“Sansa… how do you know about me and… him?" Arya carefully asked, a blush creeping up her cheek.  
  
“I’ve know about it since the first dinner with you and him, before my wedding.”  
  
“Will you end it?" Arya carefully asked.  
  
“Sandor asked me the same back then. No, I won't. It might be unconventional, and since you are a princess now, everybody would expect a fitting match, but we live at the brink of a new time. Daenerys plans to make many changes. I talked to Tyrion about it. If Gendry makes you happy, that’s enough for me. Who am I to take this happiness from you? I lived unhappily long enough to know that I will never take it from you, and if someone should say something against it, we can still say he’s the last member of the Baratheon bloodline. One letter to Daenerys, and he is a Baratheon by name. More than fitting for a daughter of Winterfell.”  
  
Arya started to smile widely, grabbing another pear.  
  
“Have you read the letter Bran wrote you?" Arya suddenly asked.  
  
“I did. He wrote me that he watched over me in King's Landing and during my journey back to the North. How I lost my wolf and it took me a long time to find it again. And… and he saw everything that was done to me. He also wrote he will watch over us through the heartrees.”  
  
Arya nodded. “I heard him once, as I heard Father."  
  
Sansa shot her sister a questioning look.  
  
“During my stay in Harrenhal, I used to practice in the godswood with sticks and once I heard voices. One sounded like Father. Bran also wrote he saw me practice at The House of Black and White in Braavos. I miss him.”  
  
“Me, too," Sansa said with a hint of sadness in her voice.  
  
There was another knock on the door and Sandor entered the solar.  
  
Sansa smiled widely at him.  
  
“Alright you two. I leave you to whatever you plan to do," Arya said and left the room.


	85. Jon

Jon could smell the city before he saw it. He had never been to the south before and he couldn’t help but think he was walking on the path of his siblings. The Riverlands were burned to the ground, so they didn’t see many people besides some farmers trying to get something to grow in the muddy ground.  
  
The snow hadn’t reached down this far south yet. The fields around King's Landing still showed signs of dragonfire. The places where Cersei Lannister’s army had found its end were clearly visible.  
  
When Jon entered the city, many people looked at him curiously. It was obvious that the direwolf banner hadn’t been seen for a long time in this city.  
  
Jon rode by the crater of the sept of Baelor. He stopped shortly and watched how workers tried to move the debris.  
  
So this is the place the man I considered to be my father died, Jon thought.  
  
When he rode through the gates of the Red Keep, he remembered Sansa’s warnings about this place. Trust no one, she had said.  
  
When he first entered the throne room and saw the Iron Throne, Jon couldn’t help but remember Sansa telling him how she was stripped and beaten at the very place he stood. Jon again was glad that he knew Sansa had Sandor at her side, knowing that he had been the one to take care of Sansa back in this very room.  
  
Everywhere he went in the Red Keep, he saw Sansa. In the godswood, where Ghost could spend his time while he was in meetings, he saw her praying in front of the weirwood for someone to rescue her. In the corridors, he saw her escorted by the kingsguard.  
  
When he saw a black cat rush by, he had to smile, and saw Arya as young girl running after it.  
  
The keep was full of memories for him.  
  
When he entered the room he had been given, he had been amazed at the view of the Blackwater Bay and the Kingswood on the other side of the river. Jon had enjoyed the view for a while before, he sat down to write to Sansa and Arya that he had arrived safely.  
  
He watched the raven take off for the North before he went to his first meeting of the greater council.


	86. Sansa

Sansa lay snuggled up at Sandor’s side under the furs of their bed. She absently trailed with her fingers through the hair covering his broad chest. Sandor sleepily hummed at the feeling of her fingers. Sansa had to smile at him.  
  
It had snowed heavily the past three days, with no end in sight. No ravens had arrived, and no visitors had made their travel to Winterfell to make any petitions.  
  
Since the weather was too bad to hold training lessons for recruits, Sandor and Sansa had no reason to get up and so they decided to take a day off and stay in bed together. At first Sansa had suggested they could get some food, to break their fast in bed.  
  
Sandor liked the idea but told her his first breakfast was already waiting for him. He started to kiss her face and then slowly started to kiss his way down her throat to her chest, giving each of her breasts equal attention before finally, when Sansa was already wailing with need, kissing his way down to the wetness that pooled between her thighs.  
  
Sandor’s tongue slowly traveled her folds before he focused on the bundle of nerves, slowly letting two fingers slip in and out of her.  
  
When Sansa peaked, she was sure all of Winterfell must have heard it, but she couldn’t care less. Sandor watched her, grinning, while she came down from her heights before quickly pulling on a pair of breeches and a tunic, telling her he was getting them some breakfast.  
  
Sansa just weakly nodded, while her heart was still beating like mad.  
  
Sandor returned quickly, carrying a large tray with fresh bread, bacon, lemon cakes, and a pot of steaming hot mint tea.  
  
Sandor settled back in the bed, placing the tray between them, and they enjoyed their day off by feeding each other lemon cakes and still-warm bread with fresh-made butter.  
  
After Sandor put the tray away, Sansa immediately started to kiss him, slowly stroking his member back to life. She straddled and rode him until he spilled his seed with a strained, “Sansa!”  
  
Sansa felt Sandor kiss the crown of her fiery hair.  
  
“I could get used to spent the whole winter this way, little bird.”  
  
Sansa didn’t answer, but purred while nestling closer to his frame.  
  
Sansa had no idea how long they just lay tangled in the warmth of their bed, sharing kisses from time to time, when someone knocked on the door.  
  
“Who the fuck knocks?" Sandor yelled with closed eyes, making Sansa chuckle.  
  
“Your sister-in-law!" Arya yelled back.  
  
“Bugger off, your sister and I are busy!”  
  
“Tell her I need to speak to her! It's important!”  
  
“Can't it wait until tomorrow?" Sandor yelled, slightly annoyed.  
  
“No, it can't!”  
  
Sandor groaned, frustrated, before looking at Sansa with big pleading eyes to make her say something to get rid of Arya.  
  
“Give me a few minutes, Arya," Sansa said.  
  
“Alright. Meet me at the heart tree!”  
  
Sandor was rubbing his face. “Why does she always have a need of you when we just get cozy?”  
  
“Because she is my sister and she always had this talent," Sansa said, chuckling while moving out of the warm bed.  
  
Sansa pulled on one of her simple dresses, her warm boots, and a soft cloak.  
  
“It won't be long, Sandor," Sansa said while giving him a kiss.  
  
“Make sure to stay warm, I don’t want your feathers to freeze off.”  
  
“I expect you wait here for me, to warm me up when I return," she said with a mischievous smirk.  
  
With that, she quickly left their room and walked through Winterfell’s icy scenery. Sansa entered the godswood and followed the path to the weirwood they had walked hundreds of times by now.

  


Arya was already awaiting her, sitting on a log near the weirwood.  
  
“Arya, what do you need that justifies making me leave my warm bed with my husband at my side?” Sansa asked.  
  
Arya handed her a bundle and when Sansa opened it, a still-steaming lemon cake was in it. Sansa had to smile at that. Arya had always had the habit of bringing a small present as bribe, if she wanted something.  
  
Sansa took a bite and smiled at the taste and sat down next to her.  
  
“Alright, this time, a lemon cake will be enough as compensation. What do want speak about?" Sansa said smiling.  
  
Arya seemed to relax a bit and took a deep breath. “I want to marry Gendry, but before I ask him, I want to know what you think about it," Arya said bluntly.  
  
“Do you love him?”  
  
“Yes… no… I mean… I don’t know… maybe. I always feel so different around him. Do you feel this way around Sandor?”  
  
Sansa had to smile. “Yes, that’s what it feels like to be in love.”  
  
Arya nodded, kicking some snow with her boot.  
  
“Arya do you and Gendry… have you…” Sansa carefully started.  
  
“You are asking if we have fucked? Gods, no. But it's not that I don’t want to. What you and Sandor do can be heard through the whole keep and I want the same, but Gendry thinks Sandor will kill him if he ´makes love´ to me, how he calls it. He told me that Sandor came to him once and told him he would break all his bones if he ever lays hand on me the wrong way. So you can imagine how he panicked when I asked him to come to my bed.”  
  
Sansa had to chuckle. “Yes, that sounds like Sandor. And Gendry? Will he be a faithful husband, or will he take after his father: fathering bastards left and right?”  
  
Sansa would not allow Arya to end up like Cersei, having to endure her husband’s disrespect on a daily basis.  
  
“He couldn’t be more different from fat old Robert. I haven’t seen him once with a girl. Even when we stayed in a whorehouse with the brotherhood, he didn’t take advantage of the opportunity.”  
  
Sansa nodded. “Arya, listen. If you think he is the right one, you should marry him. Better to be with him openly than in secret in the stables, where someone could walk in.”  
  
Arya’s head snapped around and her eyes widened in shock.  
  
“How do you…”  
  
“Sandor saw you by accident. He told me that he saw you doing something our septa wouldn’t approve of," Sansa said in a teasing tone.  
  
Sansa felt a smile rise on her face at the sight of Arya becoming red with embarrassment.  
  
“Gods… why of all people… it had to be Sandor…" Arya groaned, burying her face in her hands.  
  
“Better him than someone else.” Sansa simply said.  
  
“That’s true, I guess. I will marry him.”  
  
Sansa pulled Arya in an embrace. “Come, I am getting cold. Tell your smith the good news, while I return to my husband. He is waiting in our bed, to warm me up again,” Sansa said with a wink.  
  
“Gods, Sansa if Mordane could hear your wanton words..." Arya said, laughing.  
  
“A lady doesn’t speak about these things," Arya tried to imitate the tone Mordane had always used to lecture the Stark sisters.  
  
“Soon enough, you will understand what I am talking about," Sansa simply told her, while making her way out of the godswood and back to Sandor.


	87. Sandor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter only excists because of mademoiselle_k :D

Sansa entered their room, and Sandor could see that her face was slightly flushed by the cold air outside.  
  
“All sorted out with your dear sister?" Sandor said while pulling her into an embrace.  
  
“Gods, little bird, you are frozen," Sandor said. Even through the fabric of her dress he could feel how cold she was.  
  
“Then you better warm me up, Sandor," Sansa said, smiling, starting to untie the laces of her dress.  
  
“Aye, little bird.”  
  
Sansa's dress quickly fell to the ground and she hurried to slip between the furs.  
  
Sandor followed her lead and pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her throat hungrily.  
  
“Gods, you are shivering. I hope whatever your sister wanted was important.”  
  
“I will tell you later, Sandor, but now make me warm, first," Sansa said, throwing her arms around his neck.  
  
Sandor let his hands travel over her skin and he felt the coldness leave her body slowly.  
  
“Gods, how can your hands be so warm?" Sansa moaned at his hand cupping her firm breasts.  
  
Sandor felt her wetness pressed against his belly and his cock was throbbing with need at hearing her small panting moans when his tongue flickered over her nipple.  
  
Sansa slightly spread her legs further to give him more access.  
  
“Please, Sandor, I need you.”  
  
Sandor took himself in hand and slowly entered her.  
  
“Sandor…” Sansa moaned as he started to rock against her.  
  
It didn’t take long and Sandor felt Sansa’s inner walls clench around him. Sandor groaned when Sansa scratched him with her claws. He felt himself getting close and he increased his speed.  
  
The feel of Sansa again reaching her peak around him drove him over the edge and he breathed heavily in the crook of her neck while he spilled his seed deep inside her.  
  
Sandor rolled off her and had to smile at the satisfied look on Sansa's face and the rosy color on her cheeks. After a few minutes, Sansa snuggled close to him and he stroked one strand of her hair out of her face.  
  
“Warm now, little bird?" Sandor asked.  
  
“Yes," she answered in a sleepy voice.  
  
“What did your sister want from you?”  
  
Sansa nestled even closer, placing one of her delicate hands over his heart. “Arya is going to marry.”  
  
Sansa must have felt his surprise, since she started to laugh lightly.  
  
Gods, how he loved her laughter.  
  
“I know, I know, Sandor. It's hard to imagine, but it's true.”  
  
“May the gods have mercy," Sandor said while pulling the furs tighter around them.


	88. Sansa

“Sansa, why are we in the crypts?" Arya asked her while they walked down the mossy stairs.  
  
“You will see," Sansa simply said, walking ahead with an oil lamp and a bunch of candles. Arya had only reluctantly followed her, since she had just finished an intense practice fight against Lyanna Mormont.  
  
They stopped in front of the graves of their family, and Sansa started to light a candle at every tomb.  
  
“Sansa, why are we here?" Arya asked again, while Sansa lit the last candle.  
  
“Shouldn’t we tell Mother, Father, and our brothers the good news, that the most unlikely has happened and you are going to marry?" Sansa asked, teasing.  
  
Arya sighed.  
  
“Well, I guess you are right. Mother probably already had planned to make me a septa, since she wouldn’t have been able to find a fitting match for me. And Father probably thought the same. After all, I wasn’t you.”  
  
“Yes, that’s true, but I can tell you that Mother would probably not be happy with either of our choices of husband. Father would be happy for us, since he would see that Sandor is everything he wanted for me and he would see Gendry as a better version of Robert. He would be happy for us.”  
  
“And our brothers?" Arya asked.  
  
Sansa turned to the tombs of her brothers. Would they be happy for them?  
  
“I honestly don’t know. I guess Rickon would, but I don’t know about Robb. I guess he would want us happy, but he wouldn’t approve I guess. I feel that he would have married us off without a blink of an eye, if it had helped his alliances.”  
  
Arya shook her head.  
  
“I don’t think so, he loved us. He wouldn’t have sold us like cattle on the market.”  
  
“You know you are betrothed to a Frey, don’t you?”  
  
“What are you talking about?”  
  
“Robb betrothed you to one of Walder Frey's sons, Elmar, when he crossed the Twins during his march south to save father and us. The wife of Roose Bolton told me. She was a Frey herself and told me what a pity it was that you haven’t been found.”  
  
Sansa saw that anger was boiling beneath Arya's skin.  
  
“So he sold me for crossing a bridge…” Arya said calmly.  
  
“Arya, he loved us as sisters, but don’t make the mistake of thinking we would have had a say in our marriages. If you have returned before the Red Wedding, they would have celebrated a double wedding and you would have become a prisoner at the Twins. And if I had returned, I would have been married off before the mud on my boots had dried. Probably to Ramsay, since Robb needed the loyalty of his father.”  
  
Arya nodded weakly. Sansa pulled her closer and gave her a hug. Arya probably hadn’t thought about these truths.  
  
“I miss them all so horribly," Arya whispered while Sansa stroked her back.  
  
“I know. Me, too.”  
  
“What should I tell them about Gendry?”  
  
“Tell them the wayd he is worthy of you.”  
  
“Did you come here and tell them about Sandor?”  
  
“I did. It felt like the right thing to do.”  
  
Arya nodded and spoke about how Gendry was worthy of her.  
  
After she had finished, Sansa linked her arm with Arya’s and they made their way back out of the crypt.


	89. Jon

The council meeting had been a boring affair: hours of talking about things that didn’t have any further influence on the North.  
  
Euron Greyjoy was still raiding the west and south coasts, and Davos was currently overseeing the rebuilding of the royal fleet. The Martells and the Tyrells refused to send their ships, since they thought it was an internal affair of the Greyjoy family. Theon, the representative of the Iron Islands, had argued for hours, until Tyrion Lannister had enough and ordered Davos to build a fleet quicker to support Queen Asha in her fight.  
  
Jon had negotiated a good price for the wood the North would deliver, while Baelish had tried to bring himself in position as a potential new (and old) master of coin.  
  
Tyrion had told him one evening he would rather make one of Daenerys´ dragons the master of coin, since Littlefinger was apparently responsible for the debt of the crown to the Iron Bank.  
  
Jon tried to avoid Baelish as much as he could, since he couldn’t oversee the fact that he had sold Sansa into hell. Sansa had told him in secret that he had been the one to betray their father. Jon had had a hard time restraining himself from killing the man as soon as he had seen him again.  
  
Jon was on his way back to his rooms when a maester handed him a raven's scroll sealed with the direwolf.  
  
Jon felt himself smile. It always made him happy to hear from Sansa and Arya.  
  
“Good news?”  
  
Jon turned and saw Baelish walk over to him.  
  
“I don’t know yet, but I wouldn’t tell you, would I?”  
  
Baelish smirked at him. “You are better prepared for this place then your father was.”  
  
“Aye, Sansa warned me to trust no one here.”  
  
“Is she happy? I can’t imagine that Lady Catelyn would have wished to see her daughter in the hands of such a brute.”  
  
Neither did she wish for her daughter to be raped by the Bolton bastard, thanks to you, Jon thought. He couldn’t let Littlefinger see how much he wanted to kill him right now.  
  
“The last time I saw Sansa, she seemed quite happy with the man at her side. But maybe I was wrong. I hadn’t slept much in the night before I left Winterfell, since the moans from my sister’s bedroom kept me awake.”  
  
Jon, satisfied, noticed how Baelish flinched slightly at that.  
  
“Well, isn’t that nice.” He snapped before storming off.  
  
Jon entered his room and broke the seal. He read the letter and his eyes widened in surprise to read that Arya was going to marry. Jon nearly wouldn’t have believed it, but he knew his sister’s handwriting.  
  
Jon wasn’t very surprised that Arya had chosen Gendry. Sansa had already mentioned that there was more between Arya and the smith than just friendship.  
  
Jon smiled to himself and clutched the letter to his heart, while looking out of the window over Blackwater Bay.  
  
He couldn’t be happier. Both his sisters had found men worthy of them.


	90. Sandor

Sandor still couldn’t believe it really happened. The little wolf was to marry today and he had somehow been talked into walking her down the godswood path and giving her away, since Jon couldn’t travel back to Winterfell.  
  
“It wouldn’t be the first time you played my father,” Arya had said, and Sandor had groaned at the memory.  
  
In the end Sandor had agreed. Sometimes the little wolf still got on his last nerve, but he had grown more than fond of her.  
  
Every night when Sansa lay safely nestled in his arms, she always told him excitedly of the preparations. Arya didn’t really care about the details, and so she told Sansa she could make the necessary decisions.  
  
Sansa made sure that Arya agreed to everything, and had been taken aback when Arya asked her if she could sew her a wedding dress. She first had thought it was a jape, but Arya really wanted to wear a dress on her wedding.  
  
“Gendry likes when I look like a real lady," Arya had said, and so Sandor had watched Sansa working on a beautiful dress every evening before joining him in bed.

  


Yesterday, Arya had held her hens’ night with the little bird, Brienne and the little bear. Sansa had told him that, instead of playing the usual games that apparently were played on these events, Arya had insisted that they made Sansa spar a bit, with padded wooden practice swords. Arya had said since she had to learn the sewing needle for years, Sansa could at least once try her kind of needle. Sansa had proudly told him later that she hadn’t made a fool out of herself when she had sparred against her sister.  
  
While Sansa left to help her sister with her dress and hair, Sandor used the time to look for Gendry. Sansa had insisted he might need some advice from a seasoned warrior regarding the marriage bed.  
  
When Sandor found Gendry he was talking to Podrick Payne. If Sandor believed the sniggering of the kitchen wenches, he was nimble with his lance. Maybe Gendry had already gotten some advice.  
  
Sandor was amused when Gendry was as red as a Lannister banner after he was finished talking. 

Shortly before the ceremony, he went to Arya's room and softly knocked on the door. His little bird opened, smiling widely at him, and walked off to the godswood after kissing his cheek.

“Don’t say a word," Arya told him when Sandor eyed her from head to toe and took in the picture of the young woman standing in front of him. Sansa again had outdone herself with her sewing. Without even once letting her sister try on her dress, it fitted perfectly. Sansa had braided her hair in a simple northern style.  
  
“You look pretty, little wolf," Sandor said while holding out his arm.  
  
Sandor saw her shyly smile at him while a slight blush reddened her cheeks.  
  
“Thank you," she said while grabbing his arm.  
  
“Nervous?" he asked her shortly before they entered the godswood. He had noticed that she hadn’t said a word since they left her room.  
  
“Yes," she whispered.  
  
“Don’t be. Gendry is a good lad and my promise still stands; should he ever not treat you the way you deserve, he will regret it.”  
  
Arya lightly laughed at that. “I can’t believe I wanted you dead for so long. I am happy that you are here with us.” She squeezed his arm lightly.  
  
“Aye, me too. Come on, let's get you married.”  
  
Sandor walked down the path to the weirwood, Sansa already awaiting him. Queenly as ever, with her crown and beautiful dress, she stood next to Gendry.  
  
Compared to his and Sansa's wedding, there were not as many guests gathered. The lords of the Vale had returned to their homes as soon as the White Walkers had been defeated, so only the lords of the North were still gathered. No one had objected when the wedding had been announced. Sandor didn’t know if it was because the lords knew it would be pointless to discuss the matter with their wolf queen, or if they were fine because the groom was a bastard of late King Robert.  
  
It didn’t matter, neither to him, nor Sansa, nor Arya.  
  
Sandor saw Lyanna Mormont standing next to Ser Wylliam. Sandor knew that the little bear had feared that she might would lose her sparring partner and friend after she married, but Arya had assured the girl that nothing would change on that front.  
  
Sandor had to chuckle when he saw Brienne and Tormund shyly holding hands. It had become one of the unspoken secrets of Winterfell that Tormund and Brienne had come closer after she got the message of Ser Jaime's death.  
  
“Who comes before the Old Gods this night?" Sansa asked, smiling at both of them.  
  
“Arya of House Stark comes here to be wed. A woman grown and flowered, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"  
  
Gendry stepped forward and Sandor knew the boy was as nervous as he had been.  
  
“Gendry Waters. Who gives her?”  
  
Sansa had offered him to legitimize him if he wanted, but at the same time told him that there would be no shame to keep his bastard name. Gendry had thanked her, but told her he wasn’t interested in another name.  
  
“The princess gives herself to this man," Sandor said.  
  
While Gendry and Arya shared the kiss that ended the ceremony, Sansa smiled at him and he felt warmth spread in his chest.  
  
The following feast was a small affair. Lord Manderly had again taken care that every food and drink anyone could wish for was served.  
  
Arya had mentioned that she didn’t want a bedding ceremony, but she was so distracted by something Gendry had whispered to her that they didn’t leave early enough when some lord called for the bedding ceremony.  
  
While some of the highborn ladies pulled Gendry away, Sandor saw the look of surprise on Arya's face when the lords started to make their way to the high table to collect her.  
  
Sandor swiftly picked her up with his strong arms and carried her off to the chamber they had been given for the night while the lords muttered their disappointment that they had again been denied the chance to have a juicy bedding ceremony with one of the Starks.  
  
Sandor put her down in front of the chamber door and Arya muttered a quick ´thanks´. Sandor wished her a good night before he returned to the great hall and took his place again next to Sansa.  
  
“Thank you for that," Sansa said, placing her hand in his.  
  
“No need to thank me, little bird. I couldn’t let them shred the pretty dress you sewed for your sister, couldn’t I?  
  
“Still, that was very kind of you.”  
  
“If you say so, little bird.”  
  
“Maybe we should retire, too? What do you say?" Sansa asked with a mischievous smirk.  
  
“Aye, I would like that.”


	91. Arya

Arya watched Gendry while he slept. She watched his muscled chest heave with every breath he took, and carefully stroked away a strand of his raven-black hair that had fallen into his face.  
  
Arya pressed her thighs together and hissed a bit at the sore feeling.  
  
When she had entered the room, after Sandor had saved her from the bedding ceremony, she had seen that the ladies had had their fun with Gendry since he was standing only in his smallclothes.  
  
Arya remembered, smiling, how Gendry's hands had trembled while he helped her untie the laces of her dress.  
  
As soon as her dress had fallen on the floor, she had attacked Gendry and kissed him furiously.  
  
Arya had felt the heat pool in her lower belly when his fingers had shyly started to explore her body and her curves.  
  
“Sandor won't break your hands if you touch me," Arya had told him.  
  
“But he will if I hurt you, m'lady," he had answered her.  
  
“Stop m’lady-ing me," Arya said while swiftly pulling her shift over her head.  
  
Arya had slightly blushed when he stood there with wide eyes, admiring her from head to toe.  
  
Gendry had picked her up and Arya’s heart rate quickened at the feel of his hard, muscled body against hers.  
  
Sansa had explained what happened in marriage bed, and answered all the questions she’d had, but Arya was still excited and nervous about what was going to happen. She had met many camp followers and whores during her journeys, so she had a rough idea what was going to happen, but she had still been glad to be able to ask Sansa all kinds of questions.  
  
Sansa had told her that the first time could be unpleasant, and it might even be painful, and bleed, but if Gendry made sure she was prepared, losing her maidenhead wouldn’t be that unpleasant.  
  
And Sansa had been right. Gendry had kissed every inch of her body and Arya had yelped when Gendry had started to kiss her down in her brown curls. Gendry had told her to trust him and Arya had. It had felt good to feel his mouth down there. Arya had flushed when small moans started to escape her mouth.  
  
Arya had no idea what to call what Gendry had done, but it had made wetness pool between her thighs. Arya was glad for it, since her sister had told her it would help to make everything go smoothly. Was this what Sandor had referred to during the breakfast after his wedding to Sansa? Now Arya understood why Sansa had beamed with joy. When Gendry's mouth left her most private place, she felt like she was missing something. She had felt something build up in her that now longed to be fulfilled.  
  
When she felt Gendry position his cock at her entrance, she tensed slightly, but when Gendry kissed her down the throat, that tension quickly left her.  
  
When he pushed into her, Arya felt some discomfort, but not the sharp sting of pain she had expected, when he broke her maidenhead.  
  
When he started to move inside her, she felt that height building up again, but before she knew what was happening, she heard him groan and collapsed on top of her while she felt his cock spill his seed.  
  
Arya wasn’t exactly surprised. After all, it was Gendry's first time, too, and she had often heard that it could be a rather quick affair with inexperienced men.  
  
´Like a green boy´ Sandor had always called it. Arya could see that Gendry was embarrassed at his performance and so Arya kissed him to distract him and told him he could continue to do what he did before he had entered her.  
  
´The lord's kiss´ he called it before he let his tongue wander over her folds. Arya moaned and felt her toes curl when he hit a particularly sensitive spot and he concentrated his effort on it.  
  
Arya felt like lightning hit her when waves of pleasure washed over her and made her back arch of the soft featherbed. Now Arya understood what Sandor had talked about. No wonder Sansa always seemed so satisfied in the morning.  
  
After Arya had come down from her height she wanted to feel him inside her again, and Gendry obeyed with a teasing ´m’lady´. This time Gendry lasted slightly longer, but it had been long enough for her to find completion again.  
  
After Gendry had pulled away, he quickly drifted off to sleep and Arya had watched him for a long time.  
  
Arya still couldn’t really believe she was married for real. She had always pushed away the thought, feeling it was something horrible she would someday have to endure. But seeing her sister so happy everyday, with Sandor at her side, made Arya feel like she was missing something in her life.  
  
She looked over to Gendry and nestled closer to him. Gendry’s arms pulled her closer.  
  
I think I will like being married, Arya thought before sleep took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next pov: Sandor


	92. Sandor

Sansa's hand slowly stroked his burned cheek while her slender body was flush against him. Sandor loved the feel of her body against his. After they left the feast, they had devoured each other’s body and soul. They had taken their time to caress every part of each other.  
  
“Do you think Arya will have a good night?" Sansa asked him.  
  
“If she doesn’t, we will hear her yelling soon enough. Maybe we’ll find Gendry in the morning, stabbed with her Needle.”  
  
Both had to laugh at that.  
  
“I am sure everything is alright. After all, I gave Gendry some advice, so he has some idea what to do,” Sandor finally said.  
  
Sansa looked up to him in surprise and shock. “No, you didn’t," she exclaimed, horrified.  
  
“Of course I did. I wouldn’t want to see the disappointed face of the little wolf if that green boy has no idea what to do.”  
  
Sansa crawled up to his face and him another peck on his cheek. “I guess you are right. Not everybody is blessed with a seasoned, experienced man like I am.”  
  
“Aye, and it can be dangerous to tame a direwolf," Sandor said in a teasing tone.  
  
“You are right, but you did quite well at taming me.”  
  
“Aye, even if I got bitten once or twice.”  
  
Sansa laughed lightly at this.  
  
They listened to the crackling of the wood in the fireplace. The weather had gotten colder the last few days, so Sandor put an extra layer of furs over them.  
  
“I still can’t believe Arya is really married. Mother always told me, when she brushed my hair and told me of the great knight or lord I would marry someday, that she feared the day she had to try find a match for Arya.”  
  
“Aye, your sister was a little hellion back then. Your lord father would have needed to give you as dowry so any lord or knight would have taken your sister. Two birds with one stone; Arya would have been gone, and you would have a high lord or knight.”  
  
Sansa snorted. “Probably, but I must say, I am quite happy with my brave, gentle, and strong non-ser. Bugger all the high lords and their knights.”  
  
“Did you just curse?" Sandor asked, amused.  
  
Sansa smiled widely at him.  
  
“I love you little bird.”  
  
“As I love you.” Sansa crawled up and laid her head on the pillow so they could look each other in the eyes.  
  
“Sandor, there is something I need to tell you.”  
  
“What is it, Sansa?" Sandor asked carefully, sounding slightly concerned.  
  
“I am with child.”


	93. Sansa

Sansa watched Sandor's face while the news sunk in. It was one thing to say you wanted children, and another to really get them.  
  
Again Sansa wished she could have had at least one talk with her mother again, asking her how she had always told Father when she was with child. Sansa felt her heart beat rapidly.  
  
Sandor's face softened even more than it already was, and a smile played around his mouth.  
  
“We’ll become parents," Sandor said.  
  
“Yes, we will.” Sansa felt tears of happiness well in her eyes. “I’ve missed my moonblood for two months now.”  
  
Sandor gently swiped away the few tears that had escaped her eyes.  
  
“No need to cry, Sansa. Aren’t you happy, little bird?”  
  
“I am happy, Sandor, that’s why I am crying. I had always dreamed of having children with the man I love. Are you happy, Sandor?”  
  
“Of course I am, Sansa. I love you and I love the little wolf in your belly.”  
  
Sansa leaned over and kissed him deeply.  
  
“When should we make it public?" Sandor asked.  
  
“We might tell Arya during breakfast, and the people close to us, like Brienne and Tormund, during the day. Maybe Lyanna Mormont, too, since she always stood on our side. The other lords and Westeros can wait.”  
  
“Aye. What about Jon? Will you write him?”  
  
“I will. He should know that the Stark family is finally growing again.”  
  
“Aye.”  
  
Both of them were tired from the long day and their lovemaking after the feast. Sandor’s belly was flush against her back, one large hand resting over her lower belly. Sansa smiled to herself while she let sleep take her over.


	94. Sandor

It seemed to Sandor that he couldn’t be a more fortunate man. He had everything someone could wish for.  
  
He had a roof over his head during winter, always enough food in his belly, a warm bed with hot water running through the walls, heating the room, and the smartest and most beautiful woman in the world at his side. And now, he was to become a father.  
  
Sandor sat next to Sansa in her solar at the breakfast table. When he had awoken this morning, he had asked Sansa if he had dreamed that she told him she was with child.  
  
Sansa had told him, smiling, that he hadn’t been dreaming. Sandor had kissed her lips and her belly, making Sansa giggle.  
  
Arya and Gendry entered the solar. Arya's hair was tangled and her face had a rosy color.  
  
“Well, someone looks pretty exhausted here," Sandor said in a teasing tone.  
  
Arya just rolled her eyes and took her seat.  
  
“It seems you did listen carefully, boy, to what I told you yesterday.”  
  
“Aye, the fear of you made me listen to everything you told me.” Gendry said quickly, while taking his place.  
  
Arya glanced alternately between her husband and Sandor before realization hit her what they were talking about and she buried her face in her hands.  
  
“Well, it seems your lady was thankful for my advice.”  
  
“Aye, she was.”  
  
Arya hit his arm with all the power she had after such a night, making Gendry mutter a ´sorry´ while trying to deflect her tiny fist.  
  
Sandor looked over to Sansa who was trying to hide her laughter.  
  
After Gendry had managed to make Arya stop hitting him by bribing her with a plate of bacon, Sansa cleared her throat.  
  
“We have to tell you something," Sansa began and when Arya looked at her, curious, Sansa continued smiling.  
  
“You are going to be an aunt.”


	95. Sansa

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A few months later.

The winter continued unabated. Sansa looked over the letter that had arrived this morning. The Lord Commander had written; his scouts hadn’t found any indications of White Walker activities. It seemed the White Walkers were gone, but the Night's Watch still was prepared, should they return.  
  
Sansa walked over to the window and watched the people sparring, despite the cold wind that was blowing today. Sansa placed her right hand over her big baby bump when she spotted Sandor sparring against three other men.  
  
“Your father is a great warrior, little wolf," she said to her unborn child while stroking her belly lightly with her hand.  
  
Over the last months, Sandor had become more protective of her with every month that had passed. He always behaved around her like she was a fragile doll. At night he always had his big hand on her belly, as if he wanted to make sure no harm would come to their child. While it sometimes annoyed Sansa that Sandor was so protective, she liked it all the same.  
  
Sansa felt her child move a little bit.  
  
“I know, I know you want out. Soon, little one.”  
  
Maester Samwell had told her it wouldn’t be long now. Neither Sansa nor Sandor could wait to hold their son or daughter in their arms.  
  
Sansa had once asked if Sandor wanted a son or a daughter. Sandor had simply kissed her baby bump and told her he would take whatever was given to them.  
  
Sansa took her place at the table again and started to read the latest letter Jon had sent. Over the last few months, Daenerys had managed to bring the Riverlands and the West under her control. The lords of the West had accepted Tyrion as their lord, and Theon and his sister were still busy with fighting their uncle.  
  
Daenerys´ dragons had burned most of Euron’s ships, but the islands themselves still resisted. They would probably have to wait to the next summer to start an invasion, since the storms made it impossible to get an army safely over the sea.  
  
Jon himself had led an army during the fights in the Riverlands and had taken the Twins with a combined force of Riverlords that had been loyal to her brother, and Northmen led by Lord Glover.  
  
When the Northmen had broken the walls of the Twins, they had slaughtered every single Frey they had found. Daenerys had decried that Northmen had also slaughtered women and children, but the rest of Westeros had rejoiced that the breaking of the guest right had been avenged.  
  
Inside the Twins, they had found the bones of Robb and his wolf alongside many other Northmen. Jon had made sure that every single bone had been returned to the North. Robb’s bones now lay down in the crypts with his wolf’s. Unfortunately, Sansa’s mother's bones would never be found since they had been thrown in the river. A morsel of comfort was that her mother had found her rest in the rivers of her birthplace.  
  
Sansa's uncle Edmure had been freed from the Frey dungeons again, and Daenerys had allowed him to take his place as lord of Riverrun.  
  
Two weeks ago, Sansa had received a letter from him, saying how glad he was that Catelyn's daughters were safely back in Winterfell. He had written that he hoped she and Arya were happy, even if he found their choice of husbands more than strange.  
  
Sansa had answered that she and Arya were more than happy with their husbands and that they didn’t care if he approved of their choices.

Sansa had just put down the letter when someone knocked on the door.  
  
“Come in.”  
  
Arya entered the solar.  
  
Since Lyanna Mormont had returned to Bear Island three months ago, Arya had only Sandor to spar with. Brienne had asked Sansa if she would be allowed to visit her father on Tarth. Sansa had of course allowed it, but Brienne had told her she would return, since she felt Winterfell had become her second home. Sansa, of course, knew that it was also because of Tormund, even if Brienne hadn’t admitted anything yet.  
  
Arya seemed to be happy with her marriage, and Sansa was glad for it. Gendry worshipped her sister as she deserved.  
  
Arya seemed like she wanted to tell Sansa something.  
  
“What can I do for you dear sister?” Sansa asked friendly.  
  
“You maybe can tell me what I should do.”  
  
“What do you mean?”, she asked slightly concerened.  
  
“I missed my moonblood. I think I am with child.”


	96. Sansa

“Are you sure?" Sansa asked her.  
  
“Yes. My moon blood should have come yesterday, but I didn’t bleed last month, either. I don’t know what to do," Arya sobbed, burying her face in her hands. Sansa hated to see her sister sob.  
  
Sansa walked over where her sister sat and tried to hug her as good as her baby bump allowed it. “There, there, no need to cry.”  
  
“I can’t have a child. I would be a horrible mother.”  
  
“You can’t know that, Arya. Have you told Gendry about it?”  
  
Arya looked at her with red-rimmed eyes and shook her head.  
  
“Have you talked about the possibility to have a child?”  
  
“Of course we have. After all, we both know a child will be the result of our nightly activities, but I always saw it as something abstract. And now it's real.”  
  
Sansa took her seat next to Arya. “Do you want a child?”  
  
“No," she blurted immediately. “Maybe… I don’t know. I love Gendry, but what if I am a horrible mother?”  
  
“I don’t think you would be a horrible mother. Cersei was, and Aunt Lysa too, but you would be a good mother.”  
  
Arya calmed down a bit at hearing this. “But where would we life? Normally a woman lives with her husband, but Gendry doesn’t want Storm's End and I don’t want to leave the North anymore.”  
  
Sansa smiled at her. “You can live here in Winterfell. It will always be your home, but Jon and I have planned ahead, when we had to decide what to do with the lands of the houses that fought with the Boltons. You could become the lady of Karhold if you wanted to. We have many castles and keeps without a lord or a lady in our territory.”  
  
Arya seemed to think about it.  
  
“Talk with Gendry about it. If you really don’t want a child, I won't forbid you to drink moon tea.”  
  
Arya looked at her in surprise. “Have you…" Arya started carefully.  
  
“Once. It was after I arrived at Castle Black, before we rode off to ask the houses for support. Sandor brought it to me, so I could make sure I wouldn’t have to bear Ramsay's child.”  
  
“I see. I will talk with Gendry and let you know what I will do.”  
  
“Doesn’t matter how you decide, I will support you.”  
  
Arya smiled at her and tried to give her a hug. “Thank you, Sansa. I will give you a real hug, after the little wolf has left your belly.”  
  
Both sisters laughed while Arya left the solar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next pov: jon


	97. Jon

Jon had been asked to dine with Queen Daenerys and Tyrion tonight.  
  
“You seem cheerful, Jon. Good news from Winterfell?" Daenerys asked him.  
  
“Indeed, Your Grace.” Daenerys had insisted that Jon called her by first name in private, since she was his aunt in truth, but Jon preferred to stay formal, so he didn’t accidently slip on the truth in court.  
  
“Sansa writes it's only weeks until she gives birth, and Arya has written me that she also expecting her first child.”  
  
Daenerys smiled at him. “That is indeed good news. After such a long time, it's good to know that the wolf population is rising again in the North.”  
  
“Aye, I think so, too. I am glad my sisters are happy.”  
  
Tyrion chuckled, while drinking his wine. “I still have a hard time to imagine Clegane as a family guy.”  
  
“I know exactly what you mean. When I first saw him, when he arrived at Castle Black with Sansa, I only knew about his reputation. He is still a furious warrior, but around Sansa he seems like a different man.”  
  
“I know what you mean," Daenerys said dreamily. “My first husband Drogo was the same.”  
  
“And Baelish? Did he take the news of Sansa well?" Tyrion asked, amused. “After all, he lusted after Lady Catelyn, and after that, her daughter.”  
  
“He took it as well as he could.”  
  
Jon still remembered when he had announced to the greater council that the North expected its first heir. Baelish had had a hard time keeping his mask intact. He again had to witness Sansa’s lack of interest in him.  
  
Gods, he hated Baelish. Always asking him if he heard anything of the North, and if Sansa was healthy. It would only be annoying if he wasn’t plotting and scheming all the time in court.  
  
Tyrion and Varys made sure none of his plots had taken root, but never had enough evidence of his plotting to accuse him. Someday he would make a mistake, and then he would fall.  
  
“Let us raise our cups, to the she-wolves, that they have healthy children to strengthen the North," Tyrion said filling their cups.  
  
“Hear, hear," Daenerys said raising her cup.  
  
Jon raised his cup and silently prayed that his sisters would be alright.


	98. Sandor

Gendry and Sandor sat in the great hall. Sansa was growing larger every day with their child, and Sandor loved her more every day.  
  
He had never expected to become a father. After all, he had been an ill-tempered brute, and what woman would want someone like that as her husband? But when Sansa had told him that she was pregnant, he felt overwhelmed with happiness.  
  
When Sansa had told him Arya was expecting a child, he had nearly choked on his wine. He had a hard time to imagine the wild little wolf changing nappies or sparring in the yard with a child in her arms.  
  
Sansa had laughed at him and told him he would be in the same situation soon enough. It was true: soon enough, he would hold a little boy or girl in his arms.  
  
“Can you believe you are going to become a father?" Sandor asked Gendry.  
  
  
“Not really. I hated my father for leaving my mother alone with the responsibility. When Arya told she was with child, I was scared. I didn’t know if I would be up to the task. I still don’t know, but Arya convinced me that we wouldn’t be alone.”  
  
Sandor nodded and handed him a skin of Dornish red.  
  
“Here, the expectant fathers must stick together,” Sandor growled. He had to chuckle at the face Gendry made when drinking the sour red.  
  
“I thought your marriage to the wild little wolf would make you used to real wine.”  
  
“She keeps me quite busy. I don’t have any time to drink.”  
  
“Well, well, who would have expected this?”  
  
Both men had to laugh at this.  
  
“We are quite fortunate, aren’t we?” Gendry asked, handing him the wine skin back.  
  
“Aye, we are.”  
  
He just put the skin to mouth again, when he heard light steps running down the corridor that led to the hall.  
  
“Sandor! You must come with me!" Arya exclaimed, breathless. “The child comes.”


	99. Sandor

Sandor ran the stairway up to his and Sansa's room. Arya ran after him.  
  
When he entered their room, some maids were helping Sansa to get out of her dress, while others prepared hot water on order of Maester Samwell, and another placed clean sheets on the bed.  
  
Everybody except Sansa turned to him when he entered the room.  
  
“Se… ser, I didn’t expect you here. It isn’t appropriate,” the maester muttered.  
  
“He isn’t a ser and I don’t care if it isn’t appropriate, I want him at my side, as I want my sister," Sansa groaned, as another contraction hit her.  
  
Sandor’s heart clenched at seeing her being in pain. He walked over to where she leaned against a table while a maid worked on her lacings and placed a kiss on her temple.  
  
“What can I do, little bird?”  
  
“Stay with me the whole time. I am scared.”  
  
“Of course I will, my love.” Sandor knew Sansa would be scared. She probably wished for her mother to be here with her.

 

It took hours, until Maester Samwell finally said it would be time for Sansa to push. Sandor sat behind her in bed, her back against his chest.  
  
Every time a contraction hit Sansa, she had grabbed his hands and squeezed them with a force he had never known she possessed. Sandor didn’t know what else he could do, so he murmured encouraging words of love and courage in her ear.  
  
“My lady, the time has come, you must push now,” the maester said, and Sansa pushed.  
  
Sandor felt his heart shatter every time Sansa screamed in pain. Sandor panicked for a second when he felt Sansa go limp against him, but then the screams of a newborn filled the room.  
  
The maester walked with the baby to a nearby washbasin, Arya in tow. Sansa fell back against Sandor, breathing heavily and looking completely exhausted. He wiped a few strands of her hair out her face that had been sticking to her sweaty skin.  
  
“Sandor…" Sansa weakly breathed.  
  
“Shhh, little bird. You did great.” Sandor pressed his lips to her sweaty forehead.  
  
“I love you, Sandor.”  
  
“I love you," he said and kissed her again.  
  
Arya came back to them with a small bundle in her arms. “Here," she said while handing the bundle over to Sansa. “Say hello to your daughter.”  
  
I am the father of a daughter, Sandor thought. He looked over Sansa’s shoulder onto the bundle in her arms.  
  
“She is perfect," Sansa mused.  
  
“Aye.”  
  
Their little daughter opened her eyes a bit, looking at his and Sansa's faces. She had his grey-blue eyes and some red hair similar to Sansa’s covered her tiny head.  
  
The maester finished his examination of Sansa, in the meantime, and told them everything was fine before he and all the maids left the room.  
  
“I will leave you three, then," Arya said.  
  
“Thank you for being here for me," Sansa said, smiling tiredly at her sister.  
  
“Always," Arya said before she silently left the room after giving Sandor a short nod and a warm smile.  
  
Their daughter was still looking at them, and Sandor felt himself smile widely.  
  
“Here, hold her," Sansa told him, handing him the bundle.  
  
He never before had something so small and fragile in his arms. His daughter moved a bit to get more comfortable in the soft bundle and made some little smacking noises.  
  
Sandor felt tears of joy fall freely.  
  
“I love you, tiny bird.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one chapter left :D


	100. Epilogue

Sandor could hear the soft steps before they even entered his and Sansa’s bedroom. A long life as a soldier still made him wake up if someone tried to sneak up to him. Sansa's head lay on his shoulder, and Sandor pulled her a bit closer to him. He kept his eyes closed. He wanted to be surprised whoever came to him this morning.  
  
The soft steps stopped next to the bed beside him.  
  
“Uncle Sandor," a tiny voice called, while curiously poking his arm. “Are you awake?”  
  
When Sandor didn’t react, he felt the bed sink a bit where the tiny creature had climbed up.  
  
“Aunty Sansa, are you awake?”  
  
“Let her sleep," Sandor growled.  
  
He opened up his eyes and stared into the face of a little grey-eyed girl with raven black hair.  
  
“So you are awake," Lyarra declared happily.  
  
“Aye. Keep your voice down, your aunt needs her sleep.”  
  
Lyarra was the elder one of the twins Arya had given birth to nearly six years earlier. Her sister Alys resembled her completely, besides having her hair color more closely resembling her mother’s. Both girls were little hellions like their mother at this age, but Sandor loved them, all the same.  
  
Sandor’s own daughter, Serena, was the light of his life, as was the little boy Sansa had given birth to four years ago. In memory of her father, she had named him Eddard.  
  
“Where is your sister and Serena?" Sandor asked, trying to lower his voice when he felt Sansa stir in his arms.  
  
“They are with Father. He is showing the visitors from the South how to make Northern steel.”  
  
Gendry had become a famous blacksmith all over Westeros. He even developed a technique to make weapons similar to Valyrian steel. This Northern steel was wanted everywhere in Westeros, and blacksmiths from all over the country came to learn from him.  
  
“Good morning, you two," Sansa’s sleepy voice called.  
  
Lyarra’s face brightened at now having the attention of both of them.  
  
“Mother returns today," the little girl declared happily.  
  
Arya had accepted Sansa’s offer to become the lady of Karhold. While Arya lived most of the time in Winterfell with her children and husband, she had to travel once in a while to oversee the castle’s business. At first, Arya had been nervous about being in charge of such a large castle, since she had never showed interest when they’d learned to manage a castle in their youth. Sansa had taught her over the years. Most of the time, the castle was in hands of a castellan and his wife.  
  
Sandor and Sansa had been astonished when Brienne had asked Sansa to be released from her vow as sworn shield so she could marry Tormund. When Sansa had asked where they wanted to live, Arya had offered them the position in Karhold and so Tormund became its castellan.  
  
“Yes, I know, little wolf. Your cousin Eddard also returns with your godmother Lyanna.”  
  
The little girl squeaked at hearing this. Lyanna Mormont had agreed to become the godmother to the new Stark children. The children saw her as kind of big sister, and little Eddard in particular always missed her when she returned to Bear Island.  
  
The last time Lyanna had visited Winterfell, Eddard has asked if he could go with her to the Bear Island to visit them. He had grinned from ear to ear when his parents had allowed it.  
  
“Go back to your father, little one, and tell the others that Lyanna is coming for a visit," Sansa said, and the little girl stormed out of the room.  
  
Sansa and Sandor quickly dressed themselves.  
  
“Good morning, Your Grace, my lord," Ser Podrick Payne greeted them as they left their room.  
  
Brienne had ensured that Ser Wylliam had knighted Podrick for his good service, and he had become the new master of arms in Winterfell.

  


 

About midday, Arya rode through the gates, and her two daughters immediately ran to her.  
  
“Mama, Mama," the twins screamed happily, as if they hadn't seen their mother for years, even if it had barely been two weeks. “Lyanna returns with Eddard today!"  
  
Arya pretended surprise, even if she had already known that Lyanna would come to Winterfell soon. Over the last few years, both Lyanna and Arya had made themselves a name all over the seven kingdoms as seasoned warrior ladies.  
  
After Arya had greeted her sister and Sandor, she picked up Serena and peppered her face with kisses, making the auburn-haired girl laugh.  
  
“Open the gates," a guard yelled and Lyanna Mormont rode through the gates with little Eddard sitting in front of her.  
  
“Mama! Papa!" Eddard yelled, running towards his parents while his sister and twin cousins ran in the other direction yelling, “Aunty Lyanna!”  
  
Still surrounded by wolf pups, Lyanna came over to greet them, and she hugged Arya like a long lost sister.

Later the same evening, when the children were in bed, the adults met in Sansa’s solar.  
  
“So has anything happened while I was at Karhold?" Arya asked, sitting next to Gendry, who had his arms slung around her.  
  
“Jon has written that the weather in the South is getting better, and an invasion fleet gathers in the West to finally conquer the Iron Islands.”  
  
“It's about time," Lyanna added.  
  
“And Lyonora is with child again.”  
  
Lyonora Rose was the wife of Jon Snow. Since the only member left of House Tyrell has been Lady Olenna, the old lady had looked for a distant relative to inherit Highgarden.  
  
The last relatives House Tyrell had was a small house of the Reach that had been founded before Aegon had burned down the last Gardener king on the field of fire. Since Lord Robert Rose would inherit Highgarden, Lady Olenna insisted that his sister Lyonora would become the representative after her.  
  
Jon had written them he had fallen in love with her at first sight of her in King's Landing.  
  
It wasn’t public yet, but Daenerys couldn’t bear any children. Jon and his children would become Daenerys´ heirs. The inner circle of people Daenerys trusted knew about it and would make sure it became public should the time come.  
  
Two years ago, Jon and Lyonora had married, and a few months later their son Robb had been born.  
  
The wedding had been the only time Sansa, Arya and Sandor had traveled South and back to the places that had meant so much pain and sorrow to them. Their children had accompanied them and thought it all a big adventure. It had felt strange for Sansa and Sandor to walk down the corridors of the Red Keep.  
  
Shortly after they had arrived, Littlefinger had found his end. Sandor had hated the idea of Tyrion using Baelish's desire for his wife to bring him down, but Sansa had agreed. Sansa had never forgiven him for the part he’d had in her family’s near-destruction and giving her to Ramsay.  
  
Sansa knew exactly what words she had to say to make Baelish tell her everything. She played the unhappy wife of a brute, sold off by her ungrateful bastard brother, being forced to lie about being happy about the marriage day after day, having to endure his desires in the bedchamber and whelping children she didn’t want.  
  
Baelish had quickly revealed his plans to get rid of Jon and Sandor so he could finally set in motion his plan to murder Daenerys so he could claim the throne with Sansa at his side. The more she played with him, the more he revealed his plan to her. Soon, Sansa had all the evidence Daenerys needed to accuse him of high treachery.  
  
Daenerys ordered him to be burned by her largest Dragon, but Sansa petitioned her for Baelish to die the Northern way. Shortly before Sandor chopped off his head with his sword, Sansa had whispered ´the North remembers´ in his ear.  
  
So found the biggest schemer of Westeros his end. It had never felt that good to chop off someone's head. Sandor still vividly remembered the night of lovemaking he and Sansa had had afterwards.  
  
Jon’s wedding itself had been a happy affair. Everybody could see that both Jon and Lyonora loved each other in truth. The ceremony was held in the godswood of the Red Keep, in front of the weirwood Sansa where so often had prayed.  
  
Daenerys´ reign up to this point had been a time of peace and prosperity, if you could talk about prosperity in winter, when mere survival was the highest goal of many, high and lowborn all the same.  
  
“That’s great news," Arya declared.  
  
The five spent the whole evening together, telling stories and talking about what they wanted to do, when the winter would finally end, while drinking spiced wine.

The next day Sansa called them all to her solar after breakfast.  
  
Sansa sat at her table with Serena sitting in her lap, and Sandor in his seat with little Eddard on his. Arya and Gendry sat next to each other, holding hands, while Lyanna had the two hellions in her arms.  
  
“What is it little bird?" Sandor asked.  
  
Sansa pointed to a parchment lying on the table. “A raven from the Citadel this morning.”  
  
“You mean…" Arya carefully started.  
  
“Yes, winter has ended.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you and kudos to @hardlyfatal for being that quick as beta, so i could give you daily updates. Check out her stories, they are awesome.  
> Many thanks @mademoiselle_k for always taking the time to leave a comment and of course everyone else that left kudos and liked the story enough to let me know her/his thoughts.  
> And many thanks @Sansaspride for encouraging me to start this fic at all :)
> 
> So this was it. My first multichapter story is finished. I started this story with only one sentence in my mind and your lovely comments and kudos made me write through many nights so i could deliver the best story possible. kudos to you!
> 
> I am currently working on my next story, so keep your eyes open for it :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts?


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